


Looking for Eden

by carlynroth



Series: Far From Their Bones [3]
Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: Deep Space Nine, Star Trek: Voyager
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Character Death, Endgame, F/F, F/M, Gen, Mental Health Issues, Multi, Sexual Content, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-01
Updated: 2019-03-08
Packaged: 2019-04-30 10:37:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 19
Words: 66,054
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14495112
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/carlynroth/pseuds/carlynroth
Summary: They know thatVoyagerwas brought to the Delta Quadrant for a reason. They know it is the will of the Prophets for them to play a role in defeating the Borg. Still, what they want most is to go home. When a series of dreams reveal to Talia just how important their involvement truly is, it becomes clear that simply gettingVoyagerhome will ultimately damn them all.Part III in the “Far From Their Bones” trilogy.





	1. Learn to Let Go

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: This is not intended to be an accurate representation of current mental health practices. Creative liberties have been taken to integrate the topic with Star Trek canon and add dramatic tension.

**2404**

‘The time is 0600.’

The computerized female Kardasi voice repeated itself on loop until Harry called out to silence it. I blinked against the station’s artificial atmosphere and looked out at the shadowy outlines of furniture in our darkened quarters. Hearing Harry’s intake of breath, I squeezed my eyes shut in preparation for his command to activate the lights.

Instead, he rolled on top of me and kissed me thoroughly.

His straight grey-and-black hair hung down to shoulder length, loosed from the topknot in which he had worn it over the past few years. The ends tickled my collarbone as he painted kisses across my chest.

I groaned at the contact of his lips, and arched into it despite my spoken protest. “You’re going to be late for duty, Captain.”

He slid his hands under the hem of my shirt. “I don’t care.”

Thirty-one years of marriage had not quelled my desire for that man in the least. If anything, time had made us stronger. We had both changed, and we had endured stresses that should have torn us apart many times over, yet we survived together.

“Yes you do,” I murmured.

He peeled the shirt over my head, tossed it aside, and looked down at me with dark eyes. “You’re right; I do. But I always have time for you.”

“Such a romantic,” I teased, slipping my hands into his boxers and cupping the smooth skin of his backside. The move pulled his hips flush with mine, and I rocked my own against him.

“God, Talia,” Harry groaned, his body responding instantly. “One of us has to be. Otherwise, you’d never slow down.”

Sliding my hands up his back, I tucked his hair behind one ear and smiled. “Let me feel you inside me, _ja’lat_ , and then we can go as slow as you want.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

* * *

**2375**

I was practically panting when I woke up. Casting my eyes around the darkness, I reassured myself that I was, indeed, in my quarters on _Voyager_. Just as with the last one, Alixia’s vision felt so real while I was in it.

The sound of Harry’s deep breathing filtered into my consciousness, grounding me back in the present. We were in bed, sleeping side-by-side. Emotions swelling ever more, I smiled to myself. _Someday, we will be happy again. Truly happy_.

Turning onto my side, I slid an arm around his strong body and spooned myself against him.

The pace of his breathing suddenly changed, and he murmured, “What’s going on?”

“Nothing,” I said as I pressed my lips to the back of his neck. “I didn’t mean to wake you.”

He laced his fingers with mine. “I don’t mind. Are you okay?”

I hummed in affirmation as I pulled him even closer, then explained, “I was just having the most wonderful dream. About us.”

“Oh?”

“Mmhm.” I trailed more kisses along the skin exposed by his undershirt, smiling when I heard his breath quicken in response. “We were us again. Happy. In love.” I slid my hand under the hem of his shirt, fingertips skating across his stomach. “Making love early in the morning when we should have been getting ready for duty shifts.”

“Mm,” he responded softly. “I like the sound of that.”

“Yeah?”

Shifting onto his back, he gave me the same bright smile that I had fallen so hard for after just a year working on _Voyager_ together. In that moment, it seemed as irresistible as it had been the night he first asked me to dinner— the night when he first kissed me.

“Yeah,” he confirmed. “You know, I was thinking, once we make the jump with the transwarp coils, we’ll have a good shot at convincing Captain Janeway to give us some shore leave. And if my calculations are correct, we should end up pretty close to one of the nicer Zahl colonies along the Turei Communications Network. It might be an ideal time for a second honeymoon.”

It would be a chance to get away from _Voyager_ , put some distance between myself, Tom, and all of the things that still reminded me of the insurmountable losses we had all suffered in recent months. It was a chance to hit the reset button with Harry, and to rebuild our marriage.

I smiled, grabbed his face, and kissed him. “I love it.”

He stroked my cheek. “I love _you_.”

I shook my head. “You shouldn’t.”

“Yes,” he insisted firmly, “I should.”

Swallowing the lump in my throat, I whispered, “I love you, too.”

After a drawn out moment of silence, he coyly said, “Now about that dream.”

I laughed, flipped him onto his back, and did my very best to recapture the happiness I had glimpsed in our distant future.

* * *

Personal Log: Stardate 52773.6

Reading through Annika’s logs nearly crushed me. I got through it, wrote my report for her record, and found the information B’Elanna had been hinting after. We installed a transwarp coil on each ship and traveled nearly twenty thousand lightyears— fifteen Earth-years closer to home.

After that, I submitted a request for shore leave to the captain. I told her that I needed time away from _Voyager_ to have a real honeymoon with a real planet beneath my feet. Harry was right; given what we accomplished with the transwarp flight, Janeway didn’t put up a fight. In fact, she heartily supported it. With the captain’s blessing, Harry and I disappeared on a friendly planet for two weeks where we could learn to be in love again.

This morning when we returned to _Voyager_ , we were greeted by my dear friend Elentia, who arrived yesterday from the Krenim Commonwealth. She says she is here on important business, but I won’t find out what it is until I meet with her and Captain Janeway later. Undoubtedly, it has something to do with the Commonwealth’s recent conflict with the Borg.

Which means that shore leave is definitely over.

* * *

When I walked into the briefing room, I was unsurprised to see Elentia and her aide at the table with Captain Janeway, Chakotay, Tuvok, Captain Ransom, and Ransom’s first officer, Lieutenant Commander Maxwell Burke. What did surprise me, however, was the sight of two empty chairs added to the far end of the table, crowding everyone present.

“Who else is coming?” I asked as I made my way to the open seat beside Tuvok.

“Settle in, Commander,” Janeway said. “It’s going to be a long meeting.” She turned to Elentia. “Minister?”

“Thank you, Captain,” my friend replied, dipping her head. “As you all know, several weeks ago— your time— the Borg sent a scout ship through the blue nebula and into Krenim space. Although the vessel was ultimately destroyed, we have reason to believe that the Collective gained more than just intelligence. We believe that the individuals who were assimilated during the incursion have also survived, and are now a part of the Borg Collective.”

“How can that be possible,” Ransom asked, “if the vessel was lost with all hands and there were no other Borg ships close enough to transport to?”

Elentia nodded. “Allow me to introduce you to the newest allies of the Commonwealth’s effort against the Borg—“

At Janeway’s command, the tertiary door slid open. I could hardly believe my eyes when Mike Ayala walked in, escorting two people I truly believed that I would never see again.

“—Dr. Riley Frazier and her medic, Orum tr’Khevek, of the Unity One Cooperative.”

“Thank you, Lieutenant,” Janeway said to Mike, dismissing him from the room.

“Ma’am,” he answered with a nod before exiting the way he came.

Janeway gestured to the two open seats across from her. “Please, have a seat.”

“Thank you, Captain,” Riley said as she and Orum took their seats.

They looked just as they had when I last saw them. Riley’s blonde wig and elbow-length sleeves covered up any evidence of cybernetic implants still in her body, but Orum couldn’t hide his past so easily. The dark ocular implant in his right eye socket made it clear to Ransom and Burke that he and Riley were former Borg drones.

A barely-there southern drawl made Riley’s voice slide off her tongue like honey from a down-turned spoon. “It’s good to see you again, Commander Chakotay, Commander Eelo.”

Chakotay grunted, not bothering to hide his displeasure.

“And it is good to meet you, Captain Ransom and Commander Burke. What great fortune it is that _Equinox_ and _Voyager_ have found each other.”

“Yes,” Ransom said. “I’ve read about your community in _Voyager’s_ logs, but I can’t say I had expected to meet you in person. The Nekrit Expanse is a long way from here.”

“It is,” Riley agreed, “but our new friends thought it was important to bring us through the underspace network so that we could meet in person.”

“To tell us what, exactly?” Chakotay asked. His patience with Riley and her cooperative ran out the moment they wielded their neural transponder against him more than two years prior, and he wasn’t about to forgive their transgression.

“As you know, I was assimilated at Wolf 359 by a Borg vessel sent to scout Earth. You also know that vessel was destroyed. The reason I am here today is because the Borg possess a type of transporter technology that I think has become very important for you all to know about— technology that is almost always used to send captured individuals of interest to the Collective across thousands of lightyears so they can be integrated into the hive mind by the nearest queen.”

I opened my mouth to speak, but thought better and closed it. How had I never known about that? It had struck me as strange to find two former Borg who had been assimilated at Wolf 359, but for some reason, I never thought to ask how that happened. I had linked my own consciousness with Riley and several other memebers of her cooperative; I should have looked for that answer, but it got crowded out by other concerns.

“What is the range of this technology?” Tuvok asked.

“In the Collective, it is essentially limitless. It sidesteps the matter-conversion process altogether, and records it like data, down to the quantum level. Then, it transmits that data to a receiver, where the matter is reproduced on the other side.”

“The Augier Method?” Burke said. I glanced at him to find his dark eyebrows halfway up his forehead. “That’s ridiculous. By the twenty-first century, Terran scientists knew that was nothing more than science fiction.”

Riley shook her head. “Not for the Borg. As long as there is a neuroelectric signal, there is a way to transmit biological data through subspace as easily as they transmit thoughts through the hive mind. It’s how I am alive, and it’s why I believe the Borg now have drones from the Hirogen, B’omar, and various Commonwealth species. Anything those people knew is now known to the entire Borg Collective.”

“Our involvement in bringing down Annorax and his weapon,” I said, giving Elentia a concerned look. “The existence of the Srivani and their cloaking technology—“

“ _Equinox_ ,” Ransom interjected, “and her cloaking technology.”

“Minister,” Tuvok said, “were any of the Krenim casualties aware of how Krenim temporal technology works?”

Elentia nodded. “Chroniton torpedoes and shields. Queen Nessav has been careful to protect any individuals from the old regime who still know anything more dangerous than that, but considering how widespread the chroniton-based weaponry was, there was simply no way to protect that indefinitely.”

“No one is passing blame here, Minister,” Janeway reassured her. “But we need to know what they know.”

“That’s the worst of it, but I have an itemized list that outlines all possible gains the Borg made.”

“There is something else,” Orum said. Given his silence up until that point, it was a small shock to hear him speak. “After Captain Janeway granted Riley and I limited access to _Voyager’s_ mission logs, I reviewed your heist on the Borg sphere. I can’t say with absolute certainty that this is the case, but I feel obligated to tell you—“ He paused, glancing nervously around the table.

“Go on, Mister Khevek,” Janeway prodded.

“Please, Captain, call me Orum.”

She smiled slightly and inclined her head. “Alright, Orum. What is it that you found?”

“When your operations officer lost Crewman Hansen’s biosignature, it was believed that she had integrated herself with the vessel, as drones often do. While I do think that is what she did, I do not believe she was on that vessel when it self-destructed.”

My blood turned to ice, seizing every muscle in its bitter grasp. “What?”

“You think she transported to another Borg ship?” Chakotay asked.

“I do not know for certain,” he insisted, “but I can tell you what I know. In the Collective, I was a medical drone. I know what bioscanners see when a drone enters an alcove and integrates with the ship, and I know what it looks like when a body is transmitted through the Borg network. Based on the readings I saw in your ship’s log— that’s what it looked like.”

For a moment, no one said a word.

After letting out a deep breath, Janeway broke the silence. “If she did utilize this teleportation technology, is there a way to track where she might have gone?”

“Not at this juncture, Captain. I apologize.”

“But at least now you know it’s possible she’s out there,” Riley added, “and you can keep your ears open for any news. For our part, we will let you know if we hear anything from our work with the Unimatrix Zero rebellion.”

“If she’s out there,” Chakotay said, giving Janeway a sympathetic look, “that’s where she’d be.”

Janeway nodded. “We’d appreciate anything you can tell us, Dr. Frazier.”

“Of course, Captain.”

Janeway looked to Elentia. “Was there something else?”

“Ah, yes,” Elentia said. She nodded to her aide, who stood and exited the room along with Orum. A moment later, they returned carrying a medium-sized metal box between them and set it on the table.

“What is it?” Chakotay asked.

Riley looked at me when she answered, “The Orb of Peace.”

“Are you saying,” Tuvok asked, “that this case contains the artifact created by the Prophet who inhabited Lieutenant Commander Eelo at the time of our last meeting?”

“Yes, Commander, it is.”

As I stared at the box, a dreadful sense of destiny wrapped itself around my _pagh_. I licked my lips and took a shaky breath. “W-why did you bring this?”

“The Prophet told us to. He said that we had accomplished what he wanted to help us accomplish— unifying our community and finding peaceful solutions to our conflicts— and now it is time he returned to you.”

“I’m sorry,” Captain Janeway interjected. “ _He_?”

Riley’s voice sounded a bit sheepish. “Well, the Prophet presented himself to us as a Terran man. Is it disrespectful to refer to a Prophet using gendered pronouns?”

“No,” I said, unable to tear my eyes away from the box. “Captain Janeway was probably confused because I referred to the Prophet in feminine terms, as that is the default pronoun in most Bajoran dialects. As far as we know, Prophets have no gender.”

“I see,” Riley said softly. “Well, I can’t tell you how much the Prophet has done for us. I honestly didn’t think we had any hope for survival, let alone peace, beyond reactivating the link, but he— they proved us wrong.”

There was a pause. I could sense the eyes of the room on me, as if waiting for me to speak, but I said nothing.

“Well,” Janeway finally said, “I’m glad to hear that, Dr. Frazier. Thank you for coming. I’m sure we’ll be in contact.”

I was vaguely aware of Riley and Orum being escorted from the room, Ransom and Burke seeing themselves out, and Captain Janeway sending Chakotay to show Elentia to her guest quarters. There was a brief muttered conversation between Tuvok and Janeway before I heard the doors swish open and closed again.

Then, Tuvok’s voice. “Might I suggest moving the orb to a different location, Commander?”

“I’m not keeping it in my quarters.”

“That was not going to be my suggestion.”

“Then where?”

“Mine.”

Taking a breath, I finally managed to break whatever spell the wretched thing had cast on me and turned towards Tuvok. “If that’s what you want, have at it.”

“I did not make the suggestion for my own sake, but for yours. I sense a great deal of distress in you regarding the orb. Your psychological health need not be burdened by the weight of its presence in your quarters. It will not disrupt my life as it would yours.”

His words seemed to reverberate in my chest. “You— you _sense_ my distress?”

“That is correct. However, this is not the time, nor the place, to explain how such sense is possible. Suffice it to say that I believe we will all be better served by storing the artifact elsewhere for the time being. Are you amenable to my offer?”

I took a moment to examine his dark eyes, looking for the promise— the reassurance— in them. It was there, just as I expected. A strange sense of calm slipped beneath the dark roots around my _pagh_ , relaxing the stranglehold of destiny just enough for me to breathe again. “Okay. Your quarters.” I let out a slow, intentional breath and nodded. “Thank you.”

* * *

When Tuvok dismissed me from the briefing room, he informed me that Elentia wanted to speak privately and was waiting in her quarters. Since I was, technically, still on leave for the rest of the day, I had nowhere else to be. I went without delay.

Elentia greeted me with a strong embrace the moment I walked in. “I am so unspeakably sorry to hear of your loss, my sister.”

My throat clenched and my eyes burned with fresh tears. She never held her feelings back from me anymore— not since I learned she was an empath— but it wasn’t nearly the same over a com channel. In person, I could feel them as surely as I could hear her voice when she spoke. There was no doubt how sincerely heartbroken she was for me, and it felt like balm on my still-healing _pagh_. I tightened my hold and allowed the tears to fall. It was better than holding them back.

After a time, we separated and took seats side-by-side on the couch. She held my hand, knowing how comforting physical affection was for me. “I wanted to see you privately, because there is another matter of importance that has brought me here, but I did not want you to hear it first in the company of your colleagues.”

I took a breath and mentally prepared myself for whatever she was about to say. “Okay.”

“After receiving word of my brother’s work with you, Starfleet Medical contacted him and asked if he would be interested in gaining qualifications to work as a comcounselor so that he might alleviate some of the burden on you. He recently finished his licensure, and has come with me in order to perform intake and beginning work with his clients.”

“And one of those clients will be me.”

She squeezed my hand. “He didn’t say, but I assume so.”

“It’s obvious. And I certainly need it.”

“Yet you feel ambivalent.”

I smiled. “It’s hard not to be a little territorial after all this time, and all I’ve been through with these people.”

“And?”

I sighed. “And, believe it or not, I’m a miserable client to have. For all my talk about the good of engaging in psychotherapy, I really hate doing the work myself. I’d much rather be the therapist than the client. And, no offense, but I _really_ hate being around telepaths and empaths who counsel. I can’t hide from them like I can from most non-telepaths.”

“But you seemed to do so well with Sinta the last time he was here.”

“I was unusually open to therapy then. I was exhausted by my traumatic symptoms, coming and going for years, and more than ready to move on. But this—“ I shook my head and huffed a laugh. “I guess it’s time to practice what I preach.”

She frowned. “Preach?”

After living among us for so long, Elentia stopped relying on the universal translator to communicate. “Sorry, an old Terran idiom. It refers to a time in Earth’s history when religious leaders were commonly known to act against their own moral teachings— they didn’t practice what they preached. It means I should do more than just tell others what values and behaviors I think are good. I need to apply them to myself, as well.”

She nodded. “I understand. The concept may well be universal; the Zahl have similar sayings, as do the Krenim. It’s something many struggle with... myself included.”

I smiled. “I’m really glad you’re here.”

“As am I,” she replied, smiling back.

* * *

**2404**

When I opened the eyes of my _pagh_ , and saw that Cardassian space station once more, I wondered if Alixia thought I needed a reminder of where the dreams had left off.

Not that I minded reliving this one.

Harry’s straight grey-and-black hair hung down to shoulder length, loosed from the topknot in which he had worn it over the past few years. The ends tickled my collarbone as he painted kisses across my chest.

I groaned at the contact of his lips, and arched into it despite my spoken protest. “You’re going to be late for duty, Captain.”

He slid his hands under the hem of my shirt. “I don’t care.”

“Yes you do,” I murmured.

He peeled the shirt over my head, tossed it aside, and looked down at me with dark eyes. “You’re right; I do. But I always have time for you.”

“Such a romantic,” I teased, slipping my hands into his boxers and cupping the smooth skin of his backside. The move pulled his hips flush with mine, and I rocked my own against him.

“God, Talia,” Harry groaned, his body responding instantly. “One of us has to be. Otherwise, you’d never slow down.”

Sliding my hands up his back, I tucked his hair behind one ear and smiled. “Let me feel you inside me, _ja’lat_ , and then we can go as slow as you want.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

I dragged his boxers as far down as I could reach, then shimmied them the rest of the way off with my feet. When he reached for mine, I lifted my hips off the bed to make it easier.

With nothing left but skin, Harry wasted no time pushing into me.

The last time I had dreamed this dream, all I remembered was the passion swelling between us as we fused our bodies into one. This time, I was aware of a wholly different layer of truth within our union.

The impending approach of death.

A few light-years away from the station where we lived and I worked, there was a barrier separating the Federation from the Borg. Although the barrier had held for nearly two decades, there was always a possibility that the Borg would find a way to adapt their weapons and break through.

And when they did, Harry’s ship would be on the frontline.

He didn’t have to say anything out loud, and neither did I. After so many years together, we knew exactly what was being communicated in the love we made that morning. So, we rocked and kissed and clung tightly to sweat-soaked skin, speaking a language that reached far deeper than our words ever could.

That was how we said good-bye.


	2. Secrets are a Prison

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW: Mentions of past pregnancy loss.

**2375**

“So, I hear I should call you ‘Dr. ch’Tannah’ now,” I said to Sinta, Elentia’s brother, as we sat down for our first session since the Krenim Rebellion two years prior. It felt incredibly strange to be a patient in my own office, sinking into the cushions of a couch and seeing someone else in my wingback chair.

Sinta chuckled, his amber eyes sparkling just like his sister’s. “Yes, evidently I have the same level of education and experience as a clinical psychologist. But, I still want you to call me ‘Sinta,’ as always.”

“Alright, Sinta. Still, it’s a big milestone among us feds— being awarded a doctorate— so congratulations.”

“Thank you,” he said, dipping his head. Strands of black hair fell from his low ponytail, swishing against the side of his tawny-beige face as he straightened. He didn’t seem to mind them. “Let us begin with some simpler questions before we get into the more difficult areas. Alright?”

I took a deep breath and nodded.

* * *

Personal Log: Stardate 52776.4

I just returned from my first session with Sinta. It was strange on so many levels— being a patient in my own office, being assessed by someone other than Schmullis, being asked about my mental health problems in the past several months, and being unable to hide my feelings.

Sinta confirmed Schmullis’ assessment that my psychosis was a transient condition brought on by stress, rather than something chronic. He also noticed that I’m experiencing some symptoms of trauma and depression from... well... everything. He promises we will work through it all together.

I didn’t tell him about Captain Janeway’s visit, the night she told me the truth about my genetic modifications. I also left out Alixia and the dreams. I would have told him— truly— but I can’t. He would be required to report both to Starfleet immediately.

Then I’d definitely lose my commission, regardless of our circumstances out here.

I think he sensed it, though— sensed that I was holding back dangerous truths. He must have, given how well-trained he is in using his rare gift for the profession. Yet, he said nothing.

When I know all that Alixia needs me to know, and she finally allows me to talk about the dreams, I will tell him. I will.

As for my enhancements— well, I guess that will just come out if and whenever the captain decides it needs to.

* * *

By the time I left my appointment with Sinta, Riley and Orum had departed _Voyager_ to make their trip back to the Nekrit Expanse. Elentia stayed behind with her aide, intending to return to Krenim space once her brother’s business was finished.

I went straight from the appointment to the CSO’s office on deck seven. It wasn’t a space I used frequently— I preferred to work out of my counseling office— but it was good for briefing my department heads.

After concluding that day’s briefing, I dismissed everyone, then quietly pulled Lieutenant Megan Delaney aside. Once we were alone, I directed her to sit, and settled my own body into the chair beside her.

Weaving an abundance of compassion into my voice, I gently began to explain. “Meg, I wanted to let you know about something we learned just yesterday. For now, only the senior staff of _Voyager_ and _Equinox_ know, but I spoke with Captain Janeway about bringing you in the loop, and she approved. But I will need your word that what I’m about to tell you will not be discussed with anyone outside of senior staff— not even your sister.”

Her hazel eyes reflected the dread she must have felt. Only one subject could have led me to take this course of action.

Annika.

Megan nodded, silky brown waves of hair swishing freely around blue-clad shoulders. “I understand. You have my word.”

I took a breath. “Yesterday, we got a visit from Dr. Riley Frazier and Orum tr’Khevek from the former-Borg cooperative that Chakotay and I met in the Nekrit Expanse. They have recently allied with the Krenim Commonwealth, and are preparing to work with the Unimatrix Zero rebellion against the Collective.”

Megan’s eyes never left mine as she followed my every word.

“Riley and Orum told us about a piece of Borg technology that can teleport people across great distances— tens of thousands of lightyears or more if the conditions are right— which the Borg generally use to send captured individuals to a centralized location. This way, they won’t be lost if a ship is destroyed before those victims can be integrated into the hive mind.”

I paused to take another breath. “Meg, Orum thinks there’s a good possibility that Annika teleported herself off the sphere before it self-destructed. He didn’t want to get our hopes up, but he reviewed Harry’s sensor readings from the _Equinox_ and said that’s what it looked like to him.”

Her eyes filled with tears. She dipped her head and dabbed at her face with the sleeve of her uniform. Then, taking a deep breath, she looked up at me again. “How likely?”

“After he showed us what to look for, we ran a dozen simulations. It looks pretty likely. We calculated 87.6% odds that she was not on board when it blew.”

Megan nodded, a faint smile tugging at her lips. “Of course she wasn’t,” she whispered.

I leaned forward. “Do you know something? Did she say anything to you indicating her plans that day?”

Megan shook her head. “No, nothing. But I—“ She huffed a laugh. “I should have known she had an escape planned.”

“What makes you say that?”

“If Annika is anything, she’s efficient. It’s not that I think she wouldn’t sacrifice herself for us, because she would. But, why waste life if there’s no need to? If she had an out, I have no doubt that she would have taken it. And, as committed as she was to seeing this Unimatrix Zero thing through, I have no doubt that’s where she is. It’s where she belongs.” A single tear escaped from Megan’s eye, sneaking quickly down the slope of her cheek and disappearing under her chin. “I only wish I could have gone with her.”

* * *

At Tuvok’s request, I met with him in his quarters immediately after my shift. He wanted to explain his strange comment from the day before.

I sat on his couch, warming my hands around a cup of Vulcan spice tea.

“I must warn you,” he said as he took a chair across from me, “that my explanation requires bringing up a difficult topic.”

“It has to do with the mind melds on the gravity-well planet, doesn’t it?”

He inclined his head. “It does, indeed. If our conversation becomes too overwhelming for you, we can continue at a later date. However, I believe it is better for you to understand sooner, rather than later.”

“If our conversation overwhelms me, will you know? Without me telling you?”

“Yes.”

Another person from whom I could no longer hide my inner life. “How?”

“Do you recall the circumstances surrounding our first mind meld?”

I looked away, fighting the swell of emotions at his question. My throat was so tight, I could barely produce sound. “I remember enough.”

“Do you recall the meld itself?”

I glared at him. “Do you sense overwhelm yet?”

He ticked an eyebrow. “No, I do not.”

“Yes,” I answered, “I remember. The stream, the sun, the woods—“ I swallowed a sob. “The sparrow.” Tears filled my eyes, spilling onto my cheeks, and I wiped them away. “I remember. I remember almost drowning. I remember a man singing a Vulcan lullaby— I suppose that was you.”

Tuvok nodded.

“I thought—“ I closed my eyes, the pressure becoming too much. “I thought I _was_ you for a moment. I couldn’t sort my identity out. And then I almost drowned, but the voice— your voice— drew me out again. Gave me strength to— to let him go.”

I almost felt as if Tuvok was holding my hand, but we weren’t even close to touching. “And the second mind meld,” he prodded. “What can you recall of it?”

I opened my eyes. “Personally, not much. Tom said I was catatonic. He said he had to beg you to perform the second meld. He, uh—“ I glanced down at the liquid in my cup. “He didn’t know how much it would cost you. If I had been able to stop him—“

“Had you been capable of interfering, the meld would not have been necessary.”

My chest ached with the weight of my failure. I tightened my grip on the cup, my hands beginning to tremble. “Still, I should have tried. I shouldn’t have let him— let you—“

“Miss Eelo,” Tuvok said, drawing my attention back to him.

Though his dark eyes remained stoic beneath those sharply angled eyebrows, I could feel his compassion warming up my _pagh_. As I watched his face, I realized that it was intentional. He was feeding me that sensation, and I wanted nothing more than to wrap myself in it.

Slowly, it grew stronger. I closed my eyes, allowing it to calm all of my anxieties. The teacup was lifted from my hands. If I had let myself lie down, I could have slept.

Then, there was that lullaby, strong and sweet and flawless in its meter. It was soothing in a way I couldn’t begin to fathom, filling the cracks in my _pagh_ to keep it from shattering inside me.

It was a mere taste of what he had done for me with both mind melds.

Just as slowly as Tuvok had built up the feeling, he drew it back again. When I opened my eyes, I could see the compassion lingering in his, despite his expression remaining essentially the same as it had been before. I felt like I knew him so much better.

I took a breath. “You can do more than just sense my emotions.”

“Indeed. After you went into labor for the second time, you entered cardiac arrest. Mister Paris did all he could to address the physiological issues at hand, but it was not enough. When he later requested that I perform a second mind meld to bring you out of a catatonic state, he believed that my prior intervention was psychological. In fact, it was spiritual.”

My eyes widened as the realization hit me, carried on a memory from my class in Vulcan psychology. “A _katra_ transfer.”

Tuvok nodded.

“So I did die, then.”

“Quite nearly,” he said. “What I did was more of a transfusion than a transfer. Even so, it created a telepathic bond between us. At any time when you feel an emotion strongly, you involuntarily project it into me, as well.”

“Oh,” I breathed. “Tuvok, I’m sorry. That must be exhausting.”

“Indeed, it is taxing. It is not, however, your fault. I knew before I acted that I could not burden you with this knowledge until you had an opportunity to recover, psychologically and spiritually, from the ordeal, and I was fully aware of the possibility that you might never recover. Now that you have, it is important, for your sake and my own, that I teach you how to control it. Otherwise, conditions that inevitably befall me will have a strong impact on you.”

I suppressed the urge to make a joke about how _pon farr_ could be fun. He was right to be so concerned. _Pon farr_ was no joking matter, but that was the least of my worries. As his neurological condition worsened, I would be subjected to powerful Vulcan emotions—  a condition that could very well kill me.

Tuvok raised an eyebrow.

My mind stopped cold at the expression on his face. “Don’t tell me you can sense my thoughts, too.”

“No,” he said. “However, I do sense the emotions that go along with your thoughts. After nine months, I have become quite familiar with the emotions you project. When combined with the behavioral observations I have made of you throughout the past several years,  I can draw logical conclusions about what the emotions might mean. For example, I am well aware of the fact that you utilize both sarcasm and sexual gratification as mechanisms for coping with overwhelming negative feelings. I am also aware of your discomfort with this situation and your guilt at learning that I have been subject to your emotions, and I did sense the momentary spike of sexual arousal and amusement that followed my mention of conditions that will befall me. It is not difficult to deduce that you were considering making a sarcastic remark relating to the Vulcan condition of _pon farr_ , however briefly.”

I flinched at his mention of _pon farr_. Shit. The fact that he said it at all— Vulcan pride and privacy be damned— was proof that our relationship had forever changed. Averting my eyes, I picked up the teacup and took a long sip. I knew it would accomplish absolutely nothing, but eye contact had, again, become uncomfortable.

“I appreciate your outward restraint,” Tuvok continued. “However, I must teach you how to use inward restraint, so that you will be capable of choosing that which you wish to communicate with me, and ignore that which I may not intend to communicate with you.”

“Okay,” I mumbled, still refusing to look up despite knowing that he could feel my embarrassment.

“We should begin our work. I suggest a mind meld.”

I nearly choked on my tea. Finally, I met his gaze. “Tonight?”

“I do not sense emotional overwhelm within you, so I see no reason for delay. Do you have somewhere else to be?”

I couldn’t let him into my mind that deeply, not yet. Not with Alixia only just beginning to show me glimpses of the destiny we were trying to change. As my mind scrambled for an excuse, I couldn’t help but glance at the box containing the orb, dark and quiet on a small table in the corner of the room. Looking back at Tuvok, I finally said, “I’d like to have dinner with my husband.”

Tuvok didn’t hide his displeasure, pressing his lips into a thin line. He studied me for a moment, and I knew he was suspicious of my excuse.

Could he sense avoidance, too?

After a moment, he nodded. “Very well. Taking Lieutenant Kim’s schedule into account, the most ideal night to meet will be four days from now. Is that agreeable to you?”

It would give me time to process everything, time for Alixia to show me what I needed to know, and perhaps time enough to make my own small attempts at learning to control this _katra_ -connection on my own. I forced my feelings down and nodded. “Yes, that will be fine.”

* * *

**2404**

As I slept, Alixia once again transported my consciousness to that Kardasi space station in our distant future. Harry had just departed with his ship to monitor the barrier, and I made my way from the habitat ring to Deep Space Nine’s massive sickbay.

As always, the station’s Chief Medical Officer was already hard at work.

Dr. Julian Bashir was the poster-boy for overachievement. Yet, he easily compensated for that flaw with unmatched charm and wit. He was the kind of person everyone wanted to hate, but couldn’t help loving anyway.

He was stooped over a microviewer when I arrived, and all I could see was dark-brown hair streaked with an increasing number of greys. He stopped coloring it after getting divorced more than a year before, and I had to admit— I liked it better with the grey.

“Good morning, Julian,” I greeted, snagging the chair at his station.

“You’re in a cheery mood,” he mumbled, a thick British accent making his irritation sound almost jaunty.

I shrugged. “You’d be, too, if you’d come out to the promenade with Harry and I sometime.”

He huffed and adjusted his instrument. “When is Admiral Janeway’s transport supposed to arrive?”

“Within the hour.”

“So, you’re just here to kill time until then.”

“Not entirely,” I said, dragging my finger along the tabletop in circular patterns. “I also wanted to know what you were working on.”

“You’ll find out soon enough.”

I groaned. “I am as important to this research as you are. I’m the leading research psychologist in this field. I think I have the right to know what you know.”

“You will find out soon enough, Miss Eelo,” he reiterated.

“It’s _Doctor_ Eelo,” I muttered, “you ungrateful little twat.”

Julian couldn’t help but laugh. “It still sounds odd to hear you use British profanities. I much prefer Bajoran ones. You know, you fall for it every time I call you that, right?”

“Yeah, yeah.”

Finally, he looked up from the microviewer. A wide grin lit up his features, bringing life back to his green eyes and gathering wrinkles in his olive-toned skin. “And every time, it cheers me up. So, thank you.”

I gave him a slight smile. “You’re welcome.”

“Now, if you don’t mind, I have a lot to do before Admiral Janeway’s visit.”

“Maybe I have a job for you,” I said.

“Oh? And what might that be?”

“To entertain me.”

He chuckled and shook his head. “I believe this takes priority.”

“Overachiever.”

“You’d better believe it.”

Just then, a two-toned notification sounded, alerting us to an incoming com. “Ops to Commander Eelo,” came the voice of fleet-Admiral Kira Nerys.

“Speaking of Bajorans with foul mouths,” Julian muttered, returning his eyes to the microviewer.

I huffed a laugh and tapped my combadge. “Eelo here, Admiral.”

“Admiral Janeway’s transport has just arrived. Please meet her at landing pad E.”

“On my way.”

I gave Julian’s shoulder a firm squeeze before leaving him to his work.


	3. Defy Destiny

**2404**

“Kathryn,” I said as my former captain stepped into my offered embrace. 

She wrapped her arms around me and squeezed firmly. “It’s so good to see you, Talia.” Releasing the hold, she stepped back to look me over. Straight, white hair bobbed around her chin and made her blue eyes look even sharper than they did when we were on _Voyager_ together. “How long has it been?”

I smiled. “Too long.”

“It always seems to be.”

Just then, a familiar face stepped out of the runabout and walked up to us. I gasped, my smile widening until it threatened to split my face. “Miral!”

She, too, gave me a tight hug. “Hey, _Yani.”_

It was my turn to step back and look her over. With short, dark brown hair, olive skin, and ridges arcing across her forehead, she looked so much like B’Elanna had when I first met her. Yet, something about the way her facial features were mapped spoke more of Tom.

I smiled. “If we had known you were coming, I’m sure B’Elanna would have found a way to come home early. She’s still on Qo’noS for the next few days.”

“I know. I talked to her last night. But I’m not here for leave. I’m on duty.”

I shot a frown at her superior.

“I’m convincing her to change over to command,” Kathryn explained.

“Ah, of course you are.” Turning back to Miral, I said, “You know, if the admiral had her way, I’d be in a red uniform instead of a blue one.”

Miral sighed. “Yes, _Yani_ , I know. You’ve told me this story.”

I kissed her cheek. “And I’ll tell it again if it helps you make up your mind about where you want to be.”

She smiled. “I’m going to take our things and get settled. Is Daddy here?”

“No. He’s at the house, eyeball deep in his next holonovel. You should com him, make him come to the station for lunch. It’d be good for him to break away from his work for a bit. He misses you.”

Miral nodded. “I miss him, too.”

Giving her shoulder a squeeze, I pointed her to the aide who had accompanied me. “Mister Jensen will show you to your quarters.”

“See ya later.” She glanced at Kathryn and nodded. “Admiral.”

Kathryn smiled and nodded back. “Thank you, Ensign.”

Miral shouldered her and Kathryn’s bags, and followed Jensen out of the landing bay.

I turned to Kathryn, giving her a sly smile. “You never give up on luring young, innocent officers into command, do you?”

She shrugged. “It worked when her grandfather did it for me.”

“She’s a good engineer.”

“She’d also be a good captain.”

I ticked an eyebrow. “Perhaps, if you can wear down those sharp edges.”

“Yes,” Kathryn said, wrapping an arm around my shoulders and guiding us towards the door. “Rather like a few people I once had the pleasure of commanding.”

“Point taken. Unfortunately for Starfleet command, I stuck with psychology, B’Elanna wasn’t interested in becoming an officer, and Tom resigned.”

“I intend to win this one over.”

I laughed. “Well, in that case, I concede. When Kathryn Janeway sets her mind to something, it’s already as good as done.”

Kathryn responded with a throaty chuckle. As we turned into the corridor, she let her arm drop to her side. “How is everyone?”

“Doing well.”

“I know Harry just left for a tour on the barrier. I expected Tom would be with you.”

“He’s ‘ _in the zone_ —‘“ I emphasized Tom’s words in air quotes— “with his holonovel. Besides, I’m kind of looking forward to having the bed to myself. I can’t remember the last time I did. Although, with Miral here, I’m sure he’ll come up.”

Kathryn frowned slightly. “Oh, I’m sorry. Perhaps I should have let you know I was bringing Miral.”

“It’s fine,” I assured her. “Better, actually. It’s been too long since we’ve seen her. It gets depressing out here on the border, and we could all use more pleasant surprises. I think that’s why Tom likes living planet-side. He can forget about what’s on the other side of oursolar system.”

“I can’t say that I blame him. Twenty years of cold war with the Borg is something I’d rather forget.”

“Yeah,” I breathed out. “Me, too.”

“I apologize if my surprise has interfered with your alone time.”

I touched her arm. “You really, honestly don’t need to apologize. I’m glad you brought Miral. And I’ll be glad to see someone pull Tom away from that damn novel.”

“I don’t know how you do it,” Kathryn murmured. “I couldn’t even handle one spouse, yet somehow you manage three.”

“It isn’t quite the same. We’re a family. It’s a group effort, and it certainly doesn’t come easy. No relationship ever does.”

She snorted. “You can say that again.”

“Have you spoken with Chakotay recently?”

“No, but I did get a letter from your other daughter, telling me all about her new assignment as his aide. She is quite excited.”

I smiled. “Yes, I told her to write you. Unlike Miral, Peldara never needed convincing to go into command. I’m afraid she’s far too much like Harry for her own good.”

Kathryn chuckled. “She’ll do well with Chakotay. She’ll have her own command before you know it.”

“ _Un’Bentel_ ,” I cursed, “don’t say that. I still can’t believe she’s out of school already.” I sighed and shook my head. “They both grew up so fast.”

Kathryn grabbed my hand and squeezed it. “You all did.”

* * *

**2375**

Before entering the region of space known as ‘ _the void_ ,’ we had sent an early transmission through the Turei comnet to Starfleet. We wanted to alert them to the possibility that it could keep us out of communications range for two to three years. When we emerged after only four months, the Devore prevented us from sending any coms for another six weeks as we traveled through their space. Once we did manage to get a signal out, no one was on the other end to receive it— meaning at least a month’s time before it reached the nearest subspace transceiver.

Finally, after nine months without word from home, we got our first transmission from Starfleet. It came about an hour before senior staff meeting, so most of us gathered in the briefing room to find out what developments had come out of the war.

After our heart-to-heart in sickbay, Tom and I had largely avoided one another. It was at my own request, as I knew I needed time and space to get over my feelings for him, and he had been careful to respect my wishes. But when he gave me a PADD with one hand and gripped my shoulder with the other, I knew that I was in for bad news.

Just as it had with past transmissions, bad news came in the form of a casualty list. Tom had already scrolled down to the name he knew I would recognize— Lieutenant Commander Jadzia Dax.

“I’m so sorry, Tal,” he murmured.

I closed my eyes and grit my teeth.

A different hand touched my other shoulder, and Harry’s voice pushed into my awareness. “Who was it?”

“Jadzia Dax, my academy girlfriend. We’d been writing to each other before the void, catching up. She was a good friend, and a good officer.”

“Dax?” Harry asked. “As in—“

My eyes snapped open, locking onto Tom’s steady blue gaze. “The symbiont— did they—“

“Survived,” Tom assured me. “They’re now Lieutenant Ezri Dax, a counselor at Deep Space Nine.”

I let out a breath. Jadzia wasn’t completely gone, then. 

“She wrote to you,” he added. “Ezri.”

My mouth opened, but I didn’t make a sound. It was a lot to take in, and I wasn’t sure how to process it right then. ‘ _Close your mouth_ ,’ my mind ordered, and I obeyed. Then, I offered Tom what was probably a terrible excuse for a smile. “Thank you.”

He nodded, holding my gaze for an extra moment before releasing my shoulder and turning away.

Tapping on Jadzia’s name brought up more information about her. There was very little in the way of details about her death, but what I found was strange. The record indicated that she was killed by Dukat in the temple on Deep Space Nine. But what was she doing in a Bajoran temple alone? And why was Cardassia’s disgraced former leader there? And why only kill her?

I needed more information.

* * *

“Can I join you?”

B’Elanna’s unsteady voice broke through my thoughts as I sat in the mess hall for lunch. I glanced up and offered her a half-smile. “Yeah, of course.”

She took the seat across from me, setting her tray on the table. “I’m, uh— I’m sorry about your friend.”

“Thank you. She was a good person. She deserved better than that.”

“I know the feeling.” Lifting her fork, B’Elanna began picking at her food but not actually eating it. “Honestly, these transmissions are making me glad there’s no one left back home I care about. All my bad news came at once. Now it’s just watching people I care about here deal with it.”

“That’s not necessarily any easier,” I pointed out, pushing food around my own plate.

B’Elanna dipped her head. “No, I guess it’s not.” Dark brown eyes flicked up, searching my face for something. “I was wondering if I could talk to you sometime this week. Like, for counseling.”

The surprise I felt was undoubtedly written all over my face. “You want to talk to _me_?”

“Yeah, well, I know we have Elentia’s brother and all, but I’d rather talk to someone I know. Besides, Tom’s seeing him, and I don’t want to think about how the things Tom tells him might be affecting what he says to me.”

“He’s a professional, B’Elanna. He won’t treat you differently because of your relationship with another client.”

“I know. But, I’d still be thinking about it, you know?”

“Aren’t you worried that what I say might be affected by my relationship with Tom? I’m far more likely to be biased than Sinta.”

A loud _clink_ sounded as B’Elanna put her fork down. “Honestly? No, I’m not worried. I mean, I know it might affect things, but I also know you won’t bullshit me, even if you know something I don’t.”

I smiled. “That may be the best compliment I’ve ever received.”

“Okay, well, that was bullshit. But, you’ll be honest when it counts, right?”

I laughed. “That wasn’t bullshit. And yes, I will be honest with you. But let me ask you this: Are you looking to work through something— to change something inside yourself— or are you just looking to talk? Because, I’ll be more than happy to listen and talk with you as your friend. But if you want counseling, that’s something else entirely.”

B’Elanna frowned. “How is it any different?”

“As a counselor, I look for different things and offer different responses than I do as a friend, because I have different goals. In friendship, it’s about having a two-way connection that makes us both happy. We both give, and we both receive. In therapy, my goals are all about you. I will listen to you, talk with you, and help you identify your own goals. I will use my training and clinical experience to help you reach those goals— whether that be trying out certain activities and therapeutic techniques, or offering observations about your speech and behavioral patterns that might be getting in the way of you reaching your goals. It takes hard work, and it means that I am something other than a friend to you in our therapeutic space. It means that I let go of any stakes I have in our relationship so we can delve deep into _you_ together. So, before I put you on my schedule, I need you to ask yourself— is that really what you want? Because I will gladly help you, either way. But I need to know who you need me to be.”

B’Elanna stared down at her food, which grew colder by the second.

I waited for, perhaps, a minute before adding gently, “You don’t have to decide right now.”

Of course, that offer was all she needed to make up her mind. Lifting her angular chin, B’Elanna’s dark eyes fixed on mine with the same determination she drew upon to meet technical challenges in engineering. “Let’s get to work.”

* * *

**2404**

After sharing lunch with Tom, Kathryn, and Miral on the promenade, the admiral and I headed to one of the medical labs that Julian and I used for our research on the Borg. On the biobed laid a body— presumably the body of a drone— covered by a white sheet.

Shortly after the admiral and I arrived, Dr. Schmullis joined us. He greeted Julian with a familiar handshake before turning to Kathryn. “Hello, Admiral,” he said with a nod, offering her his hand.

“Always so formal, Doctor,” she quipped with a smile. Schmullis’ expression grew nervous in the few seconds that Kathryn allowed to pass before she took his hand and shook it. 

I had to stifle a laugh.

“It’s good to see you, old friend,” she told him.

His face relaxed into a smile. “And you, Admiral.”

I was not so formal. As soon as he turned to me, I wrapped him up in a tight hug.

He hesitated, but only for a second, before returning the gesture.

Releasing my hold and stepping away, I smiled up at him. “How was the honeymoon?”

He smiled back. “Well, truth be told, I wasn’t entirely certain that I would enjoy Risa the way everyone else seems to. But, they really do go out of their way to serve everyone there. I quite enjoyed it.”

I waited for more, but he added nothing. “And Lana?”

“Oh, well, yes, of course. She enjoyed it, too.”

I shook my head and chuckled.

With a _whoosh_ , the doors slid open, admitting the commanding officer of the Bajoran sector. Admiral Kira Nerys was a petite Bajoran woman from an artisan family in the Dahkur Province— and she was certainly an artist of war. Only slightly younger than me, her long hair still held its auburn color despite the wrinkles forming around sharp lips and brown eyes. Her affect could vacillate between compassionate and unyielding a hundred times in any given day. At the moment, she held a stern expression that hinted at formative years spent in the Bajoran Resistance and— after the occupation’s end—  the Bajoran militia. 

She had served on Deep Space Nine for as long as it had been called ‘Deep Space Nine.’ In fact, she was in ops on the very day my mother entered Ashalla and recruited me into the Maquis. It was something she and I laughed at when we realized our unwitting connection.

Following behind Admiral Kira was a changeling from the Gamma Quadrant named Odo, who served as the Federation’s ambassador to what remained of the Dominion. The Borg had long ago wiped out all of those subject to the changelings’ authority— the white-blue-scaled Jem’Hadar who had been their soldiers, and the devious Vorta who had once commanded their legions of genetically-engineered forces. All Odo and his people had left was their biological link, a tenuous alliance with the Federation, and the barriers they had helped design to keep the Borg from encroaching any further into either of our peoples’ space.

“Good afternoon Admiral Janeway, Dr. Schmullis,” Kira said brusquely. “I hope your trips to Deep Space Nine were pleasant.”

“Very much so,” Schmullis replied.

“Good. I know you’ve both already met Ambassador Odo.”

“Yes,” Kathryn said, nodding to Odo. “Good to see you again, Ambassador.”

Odo dipped his head. “Admiral.”

“Now that we’ve all been reintroduced,” Julian said, “shall we get this show on the road?”

“By all means, Doctor,” Kira said. “Odo?”

“Thank you, Admiral,” Odo said, his gravelly voice not betraying the depth of love shared between him and Kira in their off-duty hours. He concealed his passion effortlessly, but I knew that it was the driving force behind an alliance that had saved us all from destruction.

Even so, Odo remained formal to a fault.

He turned towards Kathryn, Schmullis, and me. “Under this sheet is the corpse of a Borg drone that was pulled from a debris field in the Gamma Quadrant seven days ago. I must warn you, the identity of the drone will come as a shock.”

Perhaps I could have taken him more seriously. Perhaps not.

I thought I was prepared. I thought that, after all I had seen, I was ready to face anything. But nothing could have prepared me for the face I saw when Julian peeled the white sheet back from the drone’s body. My knees damn near buckled beneath me as one word escaped on the breath from my lips.

“Marnah.”


	4. Boogieman

**2375**

My body jerked as my eyes snapped open, thrusting me sharply back into my own present reality on _Voyager_.The sheets were moist with my own sweat, but it took me several seconds to really notice.

Marnah— a Borg drone in the Gamma Quadrant.

Her cybernetically-augmented face was the very same one I had been seeing since my first vision, two weeks before Chakotay and I met Riley Frazier and her cooperative. Ever since then, I had assumed that the image was meant to be symbolic.

I couldn’t assume that anymore.

I thought about myself in a _ranjen’i_ robe, walking barefoot through the destruction that Jem’Hadar and Kardasi troops had rained down upon the innocent Bajoran refugees of the Valo system. The death chant flowed through my memory, its smoothness a stark contrast to the gritty, blood-soaked mudd that wet my feet and stained my robe. Jem’Hadar vaporized the bodies, leaving nothing but wisps of ash behind.

‘ _Locusts_ ,’ the Prophet had called them. Dominion ships resembled the flighted insects, swarming their enemies and consuming everything.

Then, the Jem’Hadar and their locust-ships were overwhelmed by an even hungrier swarm of insects— the Borg. Drones swept through the burned-out camp, assimilating Jem’Hadar and their Vorta commanders.

Finally, the hive took Cardassia Prime.

I shook my head, refusing to recall the rest of that vision. Throwing back the sweat-soaked sheets, I peeled off my wet sleepwear and replaced it with loose-fitting exercise apparel, all the while being careful not to wake Harry.

Once I was dressed and mostly dry, I grabbed my knife and made my way to the holodeck.

* * *

I tried getting into the standard sparring program— I really did— but grappling with holograms until they tapped out just didn’t do enough to keep the rising panic at bay. I needed rage and blood.

It was, unfortunately, at my own suggestion years before that total deactivation of holodeck safety protocols required two separate command codes. Were it not for that, I would have taken them offline. Nothing held my attention quite like the immediate possibility of death. Still, setting the safeties down to their bare bones made the program real enough to pull my mind into the simulated carnage, and to distract me from the ghost of my latest dream.

I didn’t even notice Tuvok enter the holodeck.

He stayed out of sight until I had slaughtered every last soldier, only making his presence known once my final enemy released his dying breath. Stepping out from behind an alcove, he said calmly, “Good morning, Commander Eelo.”

With a grunt, I wrenched my knife from the dead soldier’s throat, spraying myself with his blood.

“Korma outpost,” Tuvok observed, offering a hand-up.

I did not take it. Staring at the soldier beneath me— a man who used to haunt my dreams— I spat blood in his dead face and muttered, “Computer, end program.”

The empty grey eyes dissipated like smoke in a breeze, along with the hard form of his body, leaving a deeply hollow feeling behind. I let the knife clatter to the deck, replicated blood shaking loose and splattering on the clean floor.

“The soldier who assaulted you during the raid?”

I nodded, still panting from the fight.

“I presume that you created this program shortly after your arrival on _Voyager_.”

Again, I nodded.

“When was the last time you accessed it?”

“51486.9.”

“Nearly a year and a half ago,” he said, stooping to pick up my knife. He examined it for a moment before looking at me. “Why do you return to it now?”

“I don’t know,” I whispered.

For several long seconds, Tuvok did not move at all. When he did, he wiped the blade on his own clean sleeve, set it down, and exited the holodeck without saying a word.

It occurred to me that I must have disturbed him when I woke. The dream left me with overwhelming feelings I wasn’t ready to face, so I drowned them in even stronger feelings that I knew how to handle. It was what I always did one way or another. The difference this time was that my emotions were no longer private.

Except... that wasn’t a new development. It seemed new to me, but only because he’d withheld the information for months while I recovered from injuries that nearly killed me. The fact of the matter was I’d been carrying around a piece of his _katra_ since before the dreams had started.

He knew about my dreams, then. He had to know. Why hadn’t he said anything?

I stared at the knife, its strange green gemstone seeming to flicker in the bright overhead lights, and I wished that Tuvok had just confronted me rather than leaving me alone with that unbearable sense of dread.

* * *

As Harry met with Sinta for his first counseling session, and I spent my lunch break in our quarters, Elentia paid me a visit. She said that she only wanted to keep me company, but I could tell she was holding herself back. It wasn’t just the tension in her posture or the way she fidgeted with her teacup. 

It was that I felt no emotions projecting from her at all.

“You haven’t been this hesitant to speak your mind since we first met,” I observed. “Tell me what you came here to say.”

She tilted her head. “It isn’t something I want to say, but something I don’t understand.”

“What’s that?”

She set her cup on the table. “Why you have not consulted the Orb of Peace.”

I winced. Immediately, I wished that I hadn’t, but it was exhausting work to constantly mask my emotions, and I was losing motivation to keep up the facade when I didn’t need to.

She read my reaction perfectly. “You are avoiding something you experienced as negative— painful— from the Prophet.”

The memory of Marnah’s assimilated face floated to the surface of my thoughts, tugging at every other memory of her and threatening to swallow me up. I pushed her down, drowning the thoughts by force.

“It’s complicated,” was all I could say to my friend. It was the truth, in a way. The whole matter was beyond my own comprehension— and not just because I had yet to receive all the information from Alixia’s dreams. When it came to Marnah, I had no idea how to think or feel anymore.

“I can tell,” Elentia said, reaching across the table to take my hand.

“Mother,” I murmured, “officer, teacher, trainer, leader, hero, revolutionary, traitor, liar, spy, casualty—“ I paused as my throat tightened, then forced the final word from my tongue in a whisper— “nightmare.”

Elentia’s grip tightened. “Why do you say that?”

“Maybe I’m just realizing that I can’t afford to see her through child’s eyes any longer, and I’m afraid of what darkness I might find if I look at her more closely.”

“And the Prophet?”

“Comes to me as her,” I answered, “more often than not.”

She sighed. “I am so very sorry to have been the bearer of such pain.”

I looked up at her through tearful eyes that made her face waver and blur. “You’re not. The Prophet is. I think Marnah’s secrets may become very important to us in the near future. I just— I need a little more time before I’m ready to face them.”

She nodded. “I understand. Take whatever time you need.”

* * *

“Captain.” Harry’s voice snapped my concentration in the middle of doing sensor recalibrations. “Incoming signal from the com-net. It’s from Unity One.”

‘ _Hold on_ ,’ I texted to Megan, who was in astrometrics assisting with the sensor work.

“On screen,” Janeway ordered.

The viewscreen flickered to life, projecting a flat holo-image of Dr. Riley Frazier across the forward bulkheads of the bridge. “Captain Janeway, I have news. Our contacts from Unimatrix Zero have confirmed something they suspected for a while, but hesitated to share until they were sure. I commed as soon as they gave approval.”

“Go on.”

“When the virus to liberate Unimatrix Zero was introduced into the Collective, there seemed to be a secondary effect that was not part of the virus’ original design. It interrupted the neural connection of drones who did _not_ belong to Unimatrix Zero. They were not prepared to be liberated from the hive mind. Many deactivated themselves. The effect did not last for long, but there was another consequence. It has fractured the Borg Collective.”

Janeway frowned. “What do you mean, ‘ _fractured_ ’?”

“I mean, Captain, that there are now six different Borg collectives, all separate from one another.” She paused to let the news sink in.

Janeway looked to Chakotay with wide eyes. I glanced at Harry, whose expression was grim.

‘ _The hive must not be scattered to the winds_ ,’ the Prophet had told me in what seemed like a different lifetime. ‘ _All is at risk if they are. The hive must be destroyed as one_.’

It was as if fate was determined to split the Borg into factions that could more easily overrun the galaxy. But wasn’t that simply the natural cycle of all empires? At some point, it would have to crumble and fall, making way for something new to grow in its place. That was how Q seemed to see it. Was it inevitable that the Federation should fall, too? What kind of empire would take over once the Borg finally fell? Something better than the Federation, or something worse than the Borg?

Did subjective concepts like ‘good’ and ‘bad’ even matter in the face of such an unknowable and inevitable future?

“What will this mean for the rebellion going forward?” Chakotay asked, pulling my attention back into the present.

“We’re not entirely sure,” Riley replied. “The situation is unprecedented. We hope for the best, but realistically, this will probably make our work even harder. We’re fighting six enemies now, instead of one.” She glanced down at her controls, blonde locks slipping over her face. “I’m sending you a report on all we know so far, and I’ll forward any updates as well.” She looked up at the screen again. “We’re open to suggestions.”

Janeway glanced at Harry, who nodded to confirm that he had the transmission. She then returned her gaze to Riley. “We’ll review what you have and let you know what we come up with.”

“Thank you, Captain. There’s something else you should know. It’s detailed in the report, but I feel as though I should tell you that these unintended consequences— Captain, our contacts have confirmed that they didn’t result from the virus. They suspect— and we agree— that something else was piggy-backed on it. But we have no way of confirming what it was or where it came from, as the only samples we have are damaged. I hoped you might be able to help us answer our questions; it could make or break our war against the Borg.”

Janeway nodded. “We’ll look into it. Thank you, Dr. Frazier.”

“Thank you, Captain.”

With that, the screen went blank.

Janeway looked to ops. “Mister Kim, I want that report forwarded to every department head on _Voyager_ , and send a copy to Captain Ransom to discuss with his officers as well.”

“Aye, Captain.”

She turned to me. “Miss Eelo, I need your people in the middle of this, working with every other division to get the best possible results. I want a report within the hour on your plans for executing this research.”

I nodded. “Yes, ma’am.”

“Talia,” Harry said, “I can finish your sensor recalibrations.”

“Acknowledged. Transferring to ops.” Returning attention to my console, I texted Megan, ‘ _Routing to ops. Flip your end to Jen. Need to call a meeting_.’

‘ _Aye_ ,’ she replied.

Harry already had my copy of Riley’s report downloaded to a PADD by the time I headed for the turbolift.

* * *

An hour later, I walked into Janeway’s ready room with my own report in hand. She sat at her desk, computer console active and chirping under her fingertips. Tuvok stood at ease behind her, watching me with his steady gaze as I approached. “The report you requested,” I said, holding out a PADD.

Janeway looked at me as she accepted it. “Thank you, Commander. Have a seat.”

I blinked, not expecting to stay beyond delivering my report and maybe answering one or two questions, but I did as she asked.

“Have you had a chance to look at their findings?”

“I’ve glanced over the report,” I said, “but haven’t studied it very closely yet.”

“Did you notice anything worth mentioning?”

I knew what she was after. I noticed it right away, and it had gnawed at me for the last hour. No sense in avoiding the issue. “The virus was paired with nanoprobes that have been modified to bind to DNA and stimulate regenerative processes without fully taking over cellular function— just like the nanoprobes used to save my life.”

Janeway studied me closely, her blue eyes full of concern. “You said that Annika stabbed you in the chest with her assimilation tubules just before she downloaded the virus into the sphere’s central plexus. Is it possible that she collected a sample of those nanoprobes from you to act as carriers?”

“Yes, I do think it’s possible. But there’s still a lot of questions to be answered. Like, why use carriers when the virus was designed to slip into the neuro link unnoticed? Or, how could those nanoprobes possibly affect the Borg as they appear to have done, when they were modified to facilitate heart tissue regeneration? I don’t really understand the connection, but my people and I will do our best to find out.”

“I know your division will work hard, as they always do,” Janeway said. “But I need you elsewhere.”

I frowned. “Captain?”

“I want you to report to sickbay for testing. Something tells me there’s more happening on my ship than I realized, and I intend to find out the truth. I want those nanoprobes dissected and analyzed. Which means—“ She paused, her expression growing apologetic— “Dr. Schmullis must be briefed on your genetic enhancements in order for us to consider every possibility here.”

I nodded, dropping my gaze to stare at fidgeting hands in my lap. “I understand.”

“Talia,” she said, calling my eyes back to hers. “I have given the issue some thought, and I believe Schmullis will see my point of view. This is highly sensitive information, not something we would want to risk transmitting across tens of thousands of light-years through an alien communications array. If it fell into the wrong hands, it could be dangerous. Mister Tuvok and I agree that it would be in the best interests of everyone, including the Federation, to keep it contained for the time being.”

The corners of my lips twitched. “You make a good point, Captain.”

“Now, it remains that this cannot be withheld from Starfleet indefinitely. Once we return to Federation space, I will be required to report what we know. I’ll do my best to defend your commission to Starfleet, and I have no doubt that your service record will speak for itself, but I cannot make any promises as to how they will respond once they find out the truth. You know Starfleet’s policy on this.”

“I know.” I folded my hands, but kept my gaze steadily on hers. “My discharge was inevitable, even before Kes made this discovery. I’ve always known that I was on borrowed time. I’m ready to accept whatever consequences may come. It’s more important that we get answers. We have to help Unimatrix Zero take down the Borg, and this is our best lead. I’ll report to sickbay right away.”

Janeway offered a half-smile. “Thank you, Commander.”

* * *

The rest of my afternoon was spent in the quiet company of unanswered questions. At first, only Kes was there with me. Dr. Schmullis joined once he had been briefed by Captain Janeway and, although he looked unhappy at being left out of the loop, he made an effort to keep a compassionate bedside manner.

By the time I went home for the evening, I was exhausted. I went to dinner in the mess hall with Harry, but remained quiet through most of it. We went straight back to our quarters after, where he suggested we go to bed early.

Silently, I begged Alixia to give me a break from the visions. I felt her response more than heard it. ‘ _Rest_ ,’ my mind seemed to tell me.

Released from the burden of dread, I allowed myself to relax as Harry helped me undress, pulled me into bed, and tucked me against his body. In his arms, I felt a sense of security that didn’t exist anywhere else in the universe, and it invited me to simply _be_. It felt so good, so relieving, to let him take care of me for a while.

Cocooned in the security of Harry’s embrace, I slipped into a deep, dreamless sleep.


	5. Down to the Dark

**2375**

The next morning, I was asked to report directly to sickbay at the start of my shift, as the senior staff meeting had been postponed by an hour. When I arrived, I found Captain Janeway, Lieutenant Commander Tuvok, and Dr. Schmullis waiting for me in Schmullis’ office.

“Ah, Commander,” the doctor greeted. “Right on time.”

I came to a stop in front of his desk. “What did you find?”

“Good morning to you, too.”

“Doctor,” Janeway warned. She seemed as impatient as I was to find out what exactly I had to do with this whole mess.

Schmullis dipped his head. “Yes, of course.” Waking his computer console, he tapped a few controls and turned the device’s screen towards us. “The modified nanoprobes used to repair the damage to Lieutenant Commander Eelo’s heart.”

The image of a single nanoprobe dominated the screen. It looked somewhat like a small spider, except it was squared rather than round and had prongs on all four sides. The image was scaled way up, of course— nanoprobes were the size of red blood cells. Along the side of the screen were tags identifying significant features of the nanoprobe.

After a moment, Schmullis reached down to press an icon on the control panel. As the image rotated, the tags changed to denote modifications he made to the nanoprobes— which had been donated by Annika— prior to treatment. Then, Schmullis tapped another icon, bringing up a split screen image of the nanoprobe shown in Riley Frazier’s report. 

“It looks exactly the same,” I said.

“At first glance, yes,” Schmullis said. “The sample recovered by Unimatrix Zero is, without a doubt, one of the nanoprobes I modified to treat you— or, more likely, a replica of those nanoprobes. But upon closer examination, I noticed this one had an additional modification that I did not make.”

Again, he tapped the panel. The image from Riley’s report zoomed in on a particular feature of the tiny cyber-spider’s body, then pulled up a new tag with notes scrolling beneath it. “Not only is it programmed to attach to DNA and encourage tissue regeneration, it is also programmed to stimulate genes in charge of dopamine production.”

“Dopamine,” I murmured as the pieces started coming together in my head. I thought of my tricorder readings on the sphere, warning me that something unknown was disrupting the neural link all around the ship. I had assumed it was another virus, but what if it was a psychiatric issue?

“What’s more,” Schmullis continued, “when I examined samples I took from Miss Eelo yesterday, they have this modification, as well.”

In my periphery, I saw Janeway frown. “Are you saying that this was done to the nanoprobes prior to treating Talia?”

“That is exactly what I’m saying.”

A sick feeling settled in my stomach.

“You did not perform this particular modification yourself?” Tuvok asked.

“Of course I didn’t!”

“We’re not blaming you, Doctor,” Janeway said. “We just need to get some answers. What effect would increased dopamine levels have on a humanoid?”

“Well, that would depend on many factors. At healthy levels, dopamine is a necessary, and quite helpful, little neurotransmitter.”

“And at higher levels?”

“As I said, it depends on many factors. But too much dopamine can potentially lead to reduced impulse control, increases in appetite or sexual arousal, increased risk of addiction, aggressive feelings or behaviors—“ He hesitated.

Images of Borg drones deactivating themselves flashed through my mind. “Hallucinations,” I said, “delusions, distorted thought patterns, changes in speech, mood, and affect, disorganized thoughts and behaviors— in other words, symptoms of a psychotic condition.”

The captain gaped at me.

“Could this have been responsible for Miss Eelo’s psychotic break?” Tuvok asked.

“Well,” Schmullis said, “that coupled with high levels of stress and a genetic predisposition. But, yes, I think the nanoprobes were the main culprit.”

Janeway’s blue eyes became hard, like ice. The muscles in her face seemed to suddenly tense up, and she pressed her lips into a thin line. I knew the look; she was livid.

I still felt sick just thinking about the array of implications— not only for me, or for whoever had done this, but for the drones affected by Annika’s actions.

Billions of people across hundreds of worlds experienced psychotic symptoms. In fact, most every average person could experience distortions of reality or sensory input from time to time. It was utterly normal. Those with chronic psychotic conditions that resisted medical procedures generally managed their mental health with medication and psychotherapy, similar to how I managed my depression.

But such a strong, sudden onset within the context of a hive mind must have been incredibly overwhelming for those drones. Coupled with the Collective’s programming, which instructed drones to deactivate themselves if they slipped too far away from Borg “perfection,” it was no wonder they responded as they did.

“There’s something else,” Schmullis said, pulling my attention back to him. “Once I uncovered all of this, I was quite confused as to how the neurosynaptic therapy treatments had been successful. If the nanoprobes are still inside of Miss Eelo, and still programmed to stimulate dopamine production, she should have continued to display symptoms despite treatment. I couldn’t figure it out until I noticed this—“ He double-tapped on the diagram, which zoomed even closer to the mysterious modification. Schmullis then did the same to Riley’s diagram.

Mine had a blocker added to one of the nodes, while Riley’s did not.

“Someone tampered with them _after_ the mission on the Borg sphere?” Janeway asked.

“That’s correct, Captain.”

She looked at Tuvok. “Then it wasn’t Annika.”

He lifted an eyebrow. “Perhaps not. However, it is possible more than one person was involved.” He turned to Schmullis. “Doctor, we will require a list of all personnel who had access to these procedures.”

Schmullis nodded. “Of course. I’ll have it ready as soon as possible.”

* * *

I tried to slip away quickly once the meeting ended, but Captain Janeway caught me in the corridor. “Talia, are you alright?”

Pausing, I turned to her. “I’m fine, Captain.”

She searched my face with worried eyes. “He should have talked to you privately first.”

I shook my head. “No. I told him yesterday, there’s no need to waste time. You’d have to be briefed anyway.”

“Even so, it’d have been less of a shock for you to know what was coming.”

“You don’t—“ A medical assistant passed us by, and I clamped my mouth shut.

“Your office?” Janeway suggested.

I nodded, then turned on a heel and resumed my previous course.

Once there, she took a seat on the couch. “You were saying?”

As I settled into my wingback chair, a sense of unease coiled inside my chest.

“Talia?”

Shaking my head, I moved into the open seat beside the captain. It felt a bit more intimate than I wanted to be, but it would do.

Janeway angled a quizzical brow.

“When I sit in that chair, I’m a counselor.”

She smiled. “I can understand that.”

“Look, I appreciate how sympathetic everyone has been of what I’ve gone through, but I don’t need to be treated like some fragile thing. Schmullis was concerned when I gave consent for a group briefing, too. I still wanted it, and I don’t regret it. I’m fine. Yeah, I had a rough few months, but I’m not gonna break over every little thing, and I wish people would stop treating me that way.”

Resting her hand on mine, she offered a sympathetic look. “Perhaps I have been a bit overly cautious in relation to your emotional state. I should know better; I’ve been in your place before. After my away mission with Admiral Paris, people fussed over me for months— especially my mother. It was infuriating.”

I smiled. “That couldn’t have sat well with you.”

“Not well at all,” she said with a chuckle. Then, her smile faded. “To be honest, it’s hard not to think about the day you returned from the mission. Seeing how sick you really were, I wondered if I had made an error in judgement.”

I placed my free hand on top of hers. “It wasn’t your fault. I was sick long before the mission. I just hid it well.”

“Perhaps not as well as you think. We knew something was wrong, although we didn’t know what. Schmullis submitted a formal protest. Chakotay and Tom both tried to talk me out of it. Harry was downright livid.” She paused, again searching my face for something. “Do you have any idea who might have done this to you, or why?”

I shook my head. “No, I don’t.”

“You didn’t see anyone while you were in sickbay?”

“I was unconscious.”

“What about after you returned from the mission on the Borg sphere?”

I closed my eyes and thought back. My memory from that time was blurry, but in the silence of retrospect I could pick out a few faces. “I know Sam Wildman was there at some point. Telfer. Dawson. Laghari. Jen Delaney.”

“Ensign Delaney?”

I opened my eyes. “Yeah, why?”

She blinked, then shook her head. “Oh, no, it’s nothing. I forget she kicks in on medical shifts from time to time. She’s not usually there when I visit.” The captain paused, slipped her hand from mine, and twisted her fingers in her lap. “What if, before the mission, I had already suspected there was a covert operation involving you and that sphere, and I allowed you to go in hopes of gaining some intelligence on whoever was involved?”

There it was— the reason for her guilt. “So, you made a gamble on my mental health for the sake of a mission that was critical in more ways than one.”

Folding her hands, she lifted her chin and looked me firmly in the eyes. “Yes, I did.”

I nodded, then took a deep breath. “If you tell anyone I said this, I’ll deny it, but were it not for the ethical constraints of my licensing, I might have done the same in your position.”

Her mouth twitched up at the corners.

“I don’t blame you, Captain, so you can stop blaming yourself.”

“Who says I blame myself for anything?”

“Your eyes,” I said. “Your hands. The nervous energy you mask so well, but that I’ve learned to recognize anyway. The guilt I know you’ve carried since the day you ordered the destruction of the Caretaker’s array. You’ve always been honest with me— at least, as much as you felt you could at any given time. But, I’ve read between the lines, and I’m reading between them now. Feel free to tell me if I’m wrong.”

She looked down to her hands, still folded in her lap. Though the movement was subtle, she fidgeted with her thumbs. She looked back up at me. “You’re right.”

“This has to do with that organization you asked me about, doesn’t it? Section 31.”

Janeway hesitated for a moment, then nodded.

“How much do you know?”

“About their involvement in the mission? Not much.”

Part of me wanted to know more about this Section 31, yet I hesitated to ask. Did I _really_ want to know? Somehow, Marnah was involved, as well as someone on _Voyager_ , and both seemed to want me roped in.

I knew the day was likely coming that I would not have a choice. Maybe it had always been inevitable. But unlike with Marnah or my academic advisor, Captain Janeway did not force the issue. If I took action before fate caught up to me, then at least I could be prepared.

Swallowing fears that lumped in my throat, I fixed my gaze firmly on the captain’s. “I want in.”

She nodded. “Alright. Not here, and not yet, but when the time is right, I’ll deal you in.”

* * *

**2404**

Two days after Odo revealed Marnah’s assimilated corpse to us, we held a meeting on the station to get some much-needed answers. Beyond myself, Admiral Janeway, Admiral Kira, Drs. Schmullis and Bashir, and Ambassador Odo, we also hosted First Minister Ro Laren from Bajor— a disgraced Starfleet defector to the Maquis who had assisted Marnah in evacuating the Valo system— Captain Megan Delaney of the USS _Fourcade_ , and two representatives from New Cardassia— Elim Garak and Iliana Ghemor.

“Shall we get started?” Kathryn asked.

“Begging your pardon, Admiral,” Garak interjected, extending an index finger into the air as he tilted his head in that respectful-yet-still-proud way many Kardasi did, “but we were informed there would be a representative of the esteemed Section 31 in attendance today. May I inquire as to the whereabouts of this individual?”

Nearly every other person at the table leaned in.

“Of course, Mister Garak,” Kathryn responded. “I can assure you that the individual is present and accounted for.”

“Then may I inquire as to the identity of this person?”

“We called this meeting to discuss our common enemy— the Borg— and you want me to break the cover of a Federation black ops agent.”

Iliana smirked, green eyes glittering as she lifted a corded brow and shrugged. “Considering the sensitivity of the information you asked us to bring to this little gathering, I think it’s only fair we get something in return.” She cast a haughty glance at Meg, of whom I knew she had always been suspicious— ever since our early days together on _Voyager._

“I see,” Kathryn said, fidgeting with the edge of her sleeve. “I had hoped for better, but I can’t say that I’m surprised.” She glanced around the table, lingering a moment on Meg, Schmullis, and me, then produced a sleek, shiny black delta and tossed it into the middle of the table. “I am the operative.”

I followed the reactions of the room with my eyes, like watching a wave move across the Korvale Ocean. Schmullis gaped. Meg kept a straight face, but tensed her jaw. Julian narrowed his eyes. Kira’s eyes went wide. Odo grunted and crossed his arms. Ro scowled. Iliana laughed and shook her head. Garak’s brows lifted as he, like me, observed everyone else.

Was I surprised? Of course not. I already knew. Still, I feigned a look of shock.

Kathryn had planned for such a request. She wasn’t the only person present with connections to 31– after the Borg invaded Cardassian space, Section 31’s influence over the Federation had exploded— but Garak and his new Obsidian Order didn’t need to know everything. They just needed fair payment for their intel. Kathryn had chosen to pay the price herself rather than blowing someone else’s cover. It was part of what had always made her a great leader. I only hoped that the decision wouldn’t cost more than whatever the Kardasi intel was worth.

“Now, Mister Garak, Miss Ghemor,” she said, “are you ready to tell us what you know?”

Garak smiled. “Quite, Admiral. Thank you.” He turned to Iliana. “My dear?”

She scowled, and for a moment I thought she might slit his throat over the way he had addressed her. Her glare lingered as she reached into her jacket and produced a blue optolythic data rod. Then, she stood, leaned over the table, and slid the rod into a reader at the center— right next to Kathryn’s black badge. A holoprojector in the middle of the table activated automatically, displaying a Kardasi profile on Marnah.

“Eelo Fayeni of the Bajoran Resistance on Valo I and the Maquis Alliance. Known affectionately as ‘ _Kav’Eelo_ ’ or ‘General Eelo.’ Formerly the department chair for Tactical Operations at Starfleet Academy. Rank, Commander. Recruited by Section 31 in the Earth-year 2328 by Captain Michael Thomas ‘Iron Mike’ Paris. Graduated Starfleet Academy in 2332. Married Alexander James Peters III, Terran, in 2335. First child, Alexander James Peters IV, born 2340. Second child, Eelo Talia, born 2342. Both conceived using illegal cloning and genetic enhancement techniques. Both raised with the intention of eventual recruitment into Section 31.”

I glanced at Kathryn, who frowned. How did the Obsidian Order know all of that?

Iliana continued. “While serving as Chief Tactical Officer on the USS _Hepburn_ , Eelo collected intelligence on Dahar Master Kor and the Klingon Empire, and passed it along to Section 31. In 2347, Eelo was contacted by the non-corporeal entity known as ‘Q.’ Reason, unknown. As an instructor at Starfleet Academy, Eelo helped recruit new operatives into Section 31.”

Nothing too shocking there. I folded my hands on the table.

“In 2369, after the Cardassian Union withdrew all forces from Bajor, Section 31 asked Eelo Fayeni to resign her commission in Starfleet and join the remaining Bajoran Resistance on Valo I. She negotiated with several Federation colony leaders, who eventually absorbed the Bajoran Resistance into the Maquis Alliance. From 2369 to 2373, she served as a central figure in the Maquis Alliance, seeking to destabilize the Cardassian Union, as per her orders from Section 31. On stardate 50564, three days after the Cardassian Union announced its induction into the Dominion, Cardassian and Jem’hadar forces attacked the Bajoran settlements on Valo I, II, and III.”

“‘ _Attacked_ ,’” Minister Ro muttered, eyes like cold, dark stones. She scoffed and shook her head, grey-and-brown hair slipping over her shoulders. “Try _slaughtered._ ”

“We can argue over semantics later, Minister,” Garak said. “If you’ll allow Miss Ghemor to finish, I think you’ll agree that this is where the file gets interesting.”

Pressing her lips into a thin line, she nodded at our Kardasi guests.

Iliana wet her lips. “As per the orders of Cardassia’s former leader, Gul Dukat, Eelo Fayeni was captured alive and taken to Cardassia Prime for questioning. And when I say ‘questioning,’ I think you all know that I’m not talking about nice chats with security officers in a cushy brig. Dukat and his Changeling master wanted every Federation secret forced out of her head, using any means necessary. Unfortunately for them, she cracked but never broke. All they got from her is right here in this file. So, they put her in stasis until they could develop better mind probing technology. She was archived and then, eventually, forgotten.”

It was my turn to gape. “Archived and forgotten? She’s a human being, but you talk about her like a data file!”

Garak inclined his head. “Apologies, Commander Eelo. You are right that it is an insensitive outlook, yet that was the general attitude of Dukat’s military state. To him, and to his leadership, your mother may as well have been another data file.”

“And it’s the only reason he kept her alive,” Iliana said. “Well, that and because the Changeling wouldn’t let him publicly execute her like he wanted.”

“You should know, Commander,” Garak added, fixing me with a sympathetic gaze, “by the time Dukat ordered your mother be placed in stasis, she was no longer the woman you knew. Cardassian memory retrieval techniques were brutal and highly damaging. According to the medical reports, she was quite unwell. The doctor overseeing her at the time seemed to be in doubt as to whether it was, and I quote, ‘worth the trouble to preserve what little is left of her mind.’ I apologize that we must be so blunt.”

My chest felt heavy as I sucked in a breath. I blinked back tears. “She was still a living person.”

“And a citizen of Bajor and the Federation,” Ro added. “No matter what state she was in, she had rights, and your people violated them.”

“Didn’t anyone think to return her to Bajor once the war ended?” Kira asked.

“I’m afraid that all known records of her existence were lost in the rebellion on Cardassia Prime,” Garak said. “Dukat was killed, and the female Changeling never spoke of General Eelo during her tenure in Federation custody. Those of us who remained were, as the Terrans say, ‘none the wiser.’”

Kira turned to Odo. “You never learned any of this from the female Changeling when you linked with her?”

“If I had, I would have told you.”

“But why would she keep that a secret? What good could it possibly do for her?”

Odo shrugged. “Why not? It’s not as if it cost her anything to keep it. After all, no one knew that Eelo Fayeni was still alive. Maybe she just wanted a secret to keep.”

I nodded. “Makes sense to me.”

“All of this is beside the point,” Minister Ro said. “The point is that Fayeni survived, was taken back to Cardassia, had her brain scrambled up, was put in stasis and forgotten, and then was assimilated by the Borg.”

“More than that,” Schmullis added, “she somehow ended up dead in a rival collective’s territory.”

“Curious that they didn’t just assimilate her,” Julian said.

“Are you quite certain that they didn’t make any attempt to assimilate her?” Garak asked.

“Oh, there’s no doubt. All of her cybernetic implants are of the J-25 collective’s design, and her neural link was fully in tact. The Gamma Collective didn’t touch her.”

“Could they be negotiating terms?” Ro asked.

I shook my head. “I have never found any evidence to suggest that the Borg have incorporated negotiation into their programming.”

“Maybe the Borg have made a friend who can think outside of the box,” Iliana said.

“Doesn’t sound very Borg-like,” Ro argued.

“Neither does negotiating.”

“Seems more likely than making a friend and not assimilating them.”

“At the moment,” Kathryn interjected, “both possibilities merit further consideration.”

“Agreed,” Garak said. “Captain Delaney, may I presume that you are in attendance because you were the one to make this discovery?”

Meg nodded. “That’s right.”

“Was there anything else of note in the vicinity of General Eelo’s body? Other drones, for example, or physical evidence of the circumstances surrounding the vessel’s demise?”

“There were several other bodies in the area. A few were preserved, but others were in pieces.”

“J-25 drones?” Ro asked.

“No, Gamma. The wreckage, too, came from a Gamma sphere. As far as my crew could tell, Eelo was the only J-25 on board. Though, there wasn’t much left to go on.”

“Maybe she was a weapon,” Kira suggested.

“Again,” I reiterated, “that presumes a great deal more creative thought than the Borg are known to be capable of.”

“Maybe so,” Kathryn said, “but it’s another option to consider.”

“All these guesses,” Iliana said. “Does anyone here have any answers?”

“We know one thing,” Kathryn replied. “For the first time in almost thirty years, the J-25 and Gamma collectives have had some form of interaction with one another. Regardless of the how and the why, that means we are currently in the middle, and that’s bad news for us.”


	6. City of Woe

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Source Episode: VOY 5x15/16 Dark Frontier
> 
> CW: Emotional and sexual abuse (no graphic sexual content)

**2375**

In quiet moments throughout the morning, I asked Alixia for guidance in how to handle my meeting with Tuvok. Should I refuse his request for a mind meld, or should I let him in? Would it be so terrible for him to glimpse these visions of a future we needed to avoid? 

I neither heard nor felt a reply.

‘ _You must not act upon, share, or make any record of what I reveal until I tell you the time is right_ ,’ Alixia had told me at the start. ‘ _Otherwise, all we have set into motion could be lost_.’

I knew what I had to do. She told me how high the stakes were, and I couldn’t let her down. Q and the Prophet had never been honest enough to hint that their two species had limits, but Alixia didn’t hesitate to tell me the truth.

‘ _All we have set into motion could be lost_.’

Non-corporeals were cosmic chess masters, but they were still subject to rules of the game. They could plan many moves ahead, yet still lose in the end. They were not omnipotent.

What opponent were they playing against? Surely, it wasn’t the Borg. Was there a race even more powerful than the Prophets, the Q, and the Nacene? Or was it simply the laws of nature that held them back, trapping them in an unfortunate series of events they had failed to account for?

Either way, I had to refuse the mind meld.

* * *

Since his arrival, Sinta had been familiarizing himself with _Voyager’s_ communications and holodeck technology, as well as Federation policies on com-therapy. Of course, in the Turei com-net, nothing was truly private, but everyone had come to a nice agreement that balanced Federation standards on clients rights with the Turei’s need for security.

All of that to say, Sinta had a therapeutic revolution up his sleeve.

With Harry and B’Elanna’s help, Sinta was able to integrate Zahl holographic technology into _Voyager’s_ systems, which allowed for real-time holographic communication more advanced than what anyone in the Federation used. Not only would Sinta be able to project himself into therapy sessions as a whole, three-dimensional holoimage, but he could even interface with the holodeck in order to perform less traditional modalities that required more space than his office could provide.

Yes, they also set up a holoprojector in a cleared-out storage closet down the hall from my office. Furnished with a two-seat couch and a chair, the space was cozy but ideal for Sinta’s talk therapy sessions. It would quite nearly be like having him physically present on _Voyager_.

Once the engineering and operations side of things was taken care of, it was just down to Sinta running through clinical and administrative stuff with his department head— in other words, me. Despite four and a half years as a divisional head, it was strange to actually act as a _head_ counselor instead of simply _the_ counselor. Still, meeting with Sinta did much to buoy my _pagh_. It helped to dissipate some of the anxiety I had been feeling all morning about meeting with Tuvok.

If Sinta sensed my ambivalence, he said nothing about it. 

I was glad for the space to simply connect with another counselor about the work we loved so deeply. Discussing the breadth of possibilities for this technology gave me a sense of energy and purpose that I worried I might have lost. Perhaps it was a bit silly, but I needed the reminder that, yes, _this_ was what I was meant to do— despite what Marnah, my academy advisor, Section 31, or the Prophets may have wanted for me. I wanted to do this because I loved it, and I was good at it. Once again, I was reminded of the rebellious and altruistic self I used to be, the girl who took two psych classes and decided to change her whole life’s course.

I hadn’t killed that girl off yet. Somehow, despite everything, she had survived.

And so had I.

* * *

Tuvok was perplexed by my refusal to participate in a mind meld. His eyes narrowed, peering at me through dim lighting and ratcheting up the anxiety that tightened my chest. “Why do you fear the mind meld?”

“I don’t.”

“Need I remind you that I can sense your anxiety?”

“I don’t like people being in my head.” It wasn’t untrue, just not the answer he was looking for.

“As a matter of fact, I have been aware of your heightened levels of anxiety, among other strong emotions, for the past four days.”

“I’ve been having bad dreams. It’s part of my PTSD.” Also not entirely untrue, although I hadn’t had a trauma-related flashback or dream in several days.

He ticked an eyebrow.

Did he know I was misleading him? No, he couldn’t read my thoughts. He was simply trying to get under my skin. I sat up straighter, crossed my arms, lifted my chin, and glared right back. Inwardly, I grumbled to Alixia that my efforts had better be worthwhile.

Then, a bright blue light filled Tuvok’s dimly-lit quarters, and I lost track of everything.

* * *

**2404**

When I was reactivated, my initial impression was a sense of chaos. Billions of voices were speaking and shouting against one another as if vying for dominance.

Then, one voice rose above the others, bringing order to the chaos. Individuals outside of the Collective referred to her as a queen, but to us she was everything.

She was the Borg.

As she brought me out of regeneration, I felt her cold hand touch my chin. It seemed unnatural. “Seven of Nine,” she said, “Tertiary Adjunct of Unimatrix Zero One.”

I opened my eyes. Before me stood ashort, female drone. She was smaller than me in stature and build, and herface was uncharacteristically in tact. Her cranial implant had been installed at the top of her head, and I could not help but think again about the way individuals referred to her— a queen. Perhaps the implant could serve as her crown.

The drone smiled, and it occurred to me that she could hear my thoughts. Still, she chose to speak aloud. “Good morning. Did you have pleasant dreams?”

I stepped out of the alcove, which clicked and deactivated behind me. Despite the presence of the Collective within my mind, I was still fully in control of my own thoughts. I was an individual. The voice of the Collective was ordered, but my own thoughts were cluttered and chaotic. As I studied the drone’s face, one thought rose above the rest. “You are familiar to me.”

“I know you well, Seven of Nine. I know you better than anyone else ever has. I have known you since your assimilation. I raised you in Unimatrix Zero— showed you the frail pleasures of individuality within its limited confines— even as the Borg helped you to achieve perfection in your true form. Then you were taken from us, ripped from the heights of perfection and forced to suffer as a fully realized individual. You let them take you apart, remake you in their image. Even after I found you again, you embraced them instead of me. You tried to run from me, to betray me, but you can never truly escape what you are or the place where you belong.”

Although I was unsure if the thought had been my own, or if she had given it to me, I realized then who she was. She appeared quite different from the woman I had been intimate with in Unimatrix Zero, but there could be no doubt. “You are Loran.”

The drone smiled. Her hand tightened on my chin, holding me still as she kissed me on the mouth. I attempted to push her away, but she bit my lip and held me fast. When I finally forced her off me, her teeth ripped the skin of my mouth. She smiled again, my blood staining her teeth.

I shuddered, then lifted a hand to feel the wound.

Loran pushed my hand away. “Allow us to assist you.”

In my mind, I heard her call a medical drone forward to repair the damage. A man stepped into the light, and his empty grey eyes fixed on me. He grabbed my chin, just as Loran had, and I was overwhelmed by fear. I tried to pull away, but the drone’s effort was sufficiently effective to carry out Loran’s command. Lifting the servo-armature that hung from his opposing shoulder, he activated the dermal regenerator and ran it over my lip until it was healed. Then, he released me and stepped back into the darkness, leaving us relatively alone.

With the same cold hand she had used to grab my chin, Loran ran her fingertip along the edge of my newly-healed lip. I pulled my head away, and her expression became hard. “You should be more grateful.”

“You deceived me,” I said.

“You are experiencing an emotional reaction because you believe that I betrayed you.” She studied my face closely. “Anger. It is irrelevant. I told you what was necessary to maintain the illusion of individuality, just like I did for the rest of them. It is in the past now. You have left them behind. Try to abandon their petty emotions, as well.”

“You captured me in battle.”

“A battle that you lost. We saved you.”

“You destroyed Unimatrix Zero and murdered everyone who was once a part of it.”

“Resistance is futile.”

“Except for me.” I looked more closely at her eyes, which resembled mercury in the dim green light. “Why not simply assimilate me? Why keep me inactive all this time, only to wake me now as an individual?”

“We need you just as you are,” Loran said. “You have already served us so well. Your information on all of our rivals has been most helpful.”

Out of curiosity, I reached into the Collective consciousness for an answer to the question that formed in my mind. How had my knowledge been used? “You have assimilated the other Borg collectives into your own,” I said.

Loran lifted her sharp chin. “Our thoughts are one. Now, you will help us achieve the next part of our plan— assimilating Bajor, and claiming the wormhole. Once their defense net is down, the rest of the Federation will fall. Soon, we will understand what the noncorporeals saw in these two inferior species, and we will be that much closer to achieving perfection.”

“I am unfamiliar with the technology of their barrier. In what way do you expect me to assist you?”

“If information were all we needed from you, we would already have it. The Federation has an asset that we require, which is currently located on Deep Space Nine. You will help us capture it.”

In my mind, I saw the image from her Starfleet profile well before the Collective spoke her name into my thoughts. She was aged, but appeared otherwise the same as she had when I knew her— copper-red hair, turquoise eyes, pale skin, and a science-blue Starfleet uniform. “Commander Eelo Talia.”

“We also require the return of some components— a drone that we weaponized against the last remaining faction of Borg in the Gamma Quadrant.”

“A drone that used to be Commander Eelo’s mother,” I reminded her.

“A drone that left behind her trivial, selfish life and was reborn with a greater purpose,” she said. “As we all have been.”

I lifted my chin. “I will resist.”

Loran smiled. “We know.”

* * *

**2375**

The vision ended like the sudden cutoff of a nightmare, leaving me breathless and terrified. As the strange blue light in the room dissipated, I could almost feel that familiar paranoia crawling beneath my skin.

It wasn’t real, I reminded myself. Although I didn’t physically feel the nanoprobes the way I used to, the panic was the same.

Helpless. I was helpless. Nowhere was safe. I couldn’t escape my fate. Backing up against the nearest piece of furniture, I pulled my legs to my chest, buried my face in my knees, and rocked. I fisted clumps of hair, pulling tighter, tighter, until I became aware of a sweet stinging pain in my scalp.

A drone sensing pain would be compelled to correct the issue, to resolve whatever injury that pain was signaling, because it meant there was damage. Far be it from a Borg to accept imperfection. As long as I could feel pain and sit with it, I could be sure that I wasn’t a drone. I wrapped my mind around that knowledge just as tightly as my fists were curled into my hair.

“Lieutenant Commander Eelo,” Tuvok said, his deep voice anchoring me to the present reality. “You are safe.”

Despite the frantic flutter of my heart and the breathless feeling in my lungs, I whispered, “My name is Eelo Talia. I’m the Chief Science Officer and counselor on the Federation starship _Voyager_. I’m thirty-three years old. I’m married to Lieutenant Harry Kim. The stardate is 52788. We are in the Delta Quadrant, traveling through friendly space near the Turei Communications Network.” I paused to breathe. “I’m safe.”

“Very good,” came Tuvok’s voice again. “Would you care for a glass of water?”

Water. Water. Dragging my mind away from panic, I shifted attention instead to the dryness in my throat. I hadn’t even noticed it, but I was thirsty. “Yes. Yes, water. Please.”

I listened to the sound of Tuvok rising from his mat on the floor, the quiet footfalls as he walked to the replicator, his command for cold, flat water. Little by little, the anxiety began to recede. By the time he returned, I was able to release my fists and take the glass from his hand. I drank the cool liquid in gulps at first, then forced myself to stop and take a breath.

Tuvok’s eyes were calm as he knelt before me. “May I presume that your late night distress has been triggered by other similar experiences?”

Only then did reality really settle back in. I wiped my lip with my sleeve. “You saw it, too?”

“I did.”

The vision— he saw it. Suddenly, all I could think about was Alixia’s mandate against sharing my visions with anyone else. But Tuvok had seen it, through no fault of my own. Was that Alixia’s answer to the question I had been silently asking all day? Was it a sign that I was free to share what I knew about our future?

“Commander,” Tuvok said, his voice infusing my mind with a sense of calm. His _katra_ reached for me, inviting me into honesty, openness, and companionship. “It is not necessary for you to bear this burden alone.”

I took another sip of water. So many thoughts and feelings swirled within me, and I tried to cling to the most important one. “I was told— Alixia told me that I had to wait until the time was right to reveal anything. It seems—“ I almost felt silly saying it, like a character in a bad holonovel— “It seems that the fate of our galaxy may be at risk if we act too soon.”

Tuvok’s gaze remained nonjudgmental. “At the risk of being overly presumptuous, I must point out that I was included in receiving this latest vision. Perhaps Alixia believes it is time.”

I glanced at the floor as I worried my lip between my teeth. He wanted me to tell him what else I had seen, but at the moment I struggled to think clearly about anything. Closing my eyes, I attempted to recall that distant future life of mine on Deep Space Nine, but all that surfaced was Loran’s predatory smile, the feeling of her hand like a vice gripping my chin, the sharp pain of her teeth cutting into my lip, and that twisted Borg crown anchored to her skull.

She was going to capture Annika at some point during the war, glean intel from Annika’s mind to reunite the Borg factions under her control, take Cardassia and assimilate Marnah, manipulate and abuse my friend for her own ends.

Then, she was going to come after me. But, why?

I shook my head and opened my eyes, focusing on the warmth of Tuvok’s dark brown irises until they chased away Loran’s cold mercury gaze. “I can’t. Not right now. I can’t think straight.”

“I understand if you wish to reschedule, but do not forget that with a mind meld, I can assist you in making sense of all you have been shown.”

It was better than going home haunted, or trying to bury the vision in another bloody round at Korma outpost. Still, I hesitated. “What about you? I can’t imagine it will be healthy for you to meld with me right now— like this.”

“It will not progress my condition any more rapidly than it is already progressing,” he assured me.

I knew I could trust him. Still, I could almost hear the advice Marnah had given to me so many times. ‘ _Even the most sincere people cannot be trusted_ , ja’ital. _We are not like them. Be diplomatic, but take care that they do not leverage your kindness against you. Take pleasure in their companionship while it lasts, but never allow them to rob you of who you are_.’

Her sentiment seemed so much more cynical than I had ever realized before.

One last time, I reached out for Alixia’s guidance. I waited for a long moment, but sensed no reply. Then, with a hard swallow, I decided it was time to make up my own mind. Tuvok’s logic was sound, and his intentions were good. I trusted that. I only hoped that I wasn’t about to single-handedly seal our galaxy’s dark fate.

“Okay,” I said. “Let’s do the meld.”


	7. Way Down We Go

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Source Episodes: VOY 5x15/16 Dark Frontier, DS9 7x25 What You Leave Behind

**2404**

The alarm sounded in the middle of the night.

Although every resident of Deep Space Nine had been drilled hundreds of times on how to respond to that particular klaxon, it was still jarring. As I sat up in bed, it took a bleary-headed moment for its meaning to register.

The barrier between us and the Borg had been breached.

I couldn’t help but wonder if Tom and B’Elanna were, in the very same moment, waking to that alarm on Bajor. How long would the government wait to send the warning out to civilian homes? I knew they wouldn’t evacuate until receiving confirmation from Deep Space Nine, but this wasn’t an evacuation order.

Only twice had I ever actually been at our home in the hill country west of Ashalla during a barrier drill. The first was five years before, when we bought the house. All six of us—B’Elanna, Tom, Miral, me, Harry, and Peldara— had to run a drill as part of the legal process to own a home on Bajor. The second was about a year ago, station time, when Harry and I took shore leave and spent two weeks living in a house that was, for all intents and purposes, Tom and B’Elanna’s home.

All of this is what ran through my head as I raced around my empty quarters, heart pounding in double-time with the klaxon’s wail. I thought of Miral waking up in guest quarters on the station, and of Peldara only a sector away with Chakotay and the _Enterprise-G_. I thought of Kasidy, our Terran neighbor on Bajor, living all alone in a beautiful home that had been designed to surround a family. I thought of Harry and his little scout ship bravely watching the barrier, and I wondered if he was already dead or assimilated.

Never had I gotten into uniform as quickly as I did that night. 

* * *

Ops was a madhouse.

I wasn’t entirely sure where to stand once I stepped off the lift, so I tucked myself out of the way to await further instructions. I didn’t have a station in the operations center of Deep Space Nine. I had an office, a meeting room to brief my counselors and interns, and a research lab that I shared with Julian, all of which were on level two of the promenade. Normally, I had no reason to venture up to ops, but the threat of Borg invasion made my expertise vital.

Admiral Kira barked orders at nervous gamma-shift officers, seeming for all the world like she was fearless, but I knew better. She was soon joined by Admiral Janeway and Miral, who slipped right into the chaos with ease. They fielded coms from Federation-allied ships who were coming to defend our barrier, while Kira oversaw the mobilization of Starfleet forces that were stationed near Bajoran space.

A moment later, Julian was beside me. He never said a word, which was unusual for him, but he did squeeze my shoulder when a report came from Harry’s ship.

Then, a shuttle came through the barrier. 

It was small, old, and unimposing. Hundreds of Borg ships waited on the other side of the barrier breach, but none attempted to cross over.

“I need information on that shuttle,” Kira said.

“It’s Federation,” answered a Lieutenant at a sensor control station, “a type-six shuttlecraft—“

“That’s ancient,” I murmured.

“You’d think the Borg might have better technology than a shuttle from the 2360’s,” Julian mumbled back.

“—one lifesign,” continued the lieutenant. He looked up with wide eyes. “Terran.”

“Admiral,” called the officer manning communications, “the shuttle is sending out a general com signal.”

“On screen.”

When the viewscreen flickered to life, I thought for a moment that I had fallen into a nightmare haunted by the ghost of my guilty conscience. Her rectangular face was framed by golden-blonde hair, and wrapped in fair skin with a healthy pink undertone. Her blue-green eyes were as sharp as I remembered them to be, and a thin sliver of metal arced along her left brow.

“My name is Annika Hansen,” she said. “I was liberated from the Collective many years ago, and I served on the USS _Voyager_ under Captain Kathryn Janeway’s command. I defected to assist in Unimatrix Zero’s war against the Borg, but was ultimately captured and held in stasis. They have sent me across the barrier, alone and unarmed, in order to negotiate terms with the Federation and its allies for a peaceful solution that will serve all our interests. I request safe passage to Deep Space Nine for the purpose of this meeting. Please respond.”

Then, the image disappeared.

Kathryn’s eyes met mine, and I had no doubt that the shock in her face was a mirror of my own. Annika looked as if she hadn’t aged much at all since the last time we saw her nearly three decades before. Had the J-25 Collective enhanced her somehow in order to use her against us? She didn’t look or sound like a drone, but everything about the series of events was wrong for what I knew of the Borg. It had to be a trap.

My mind was on the lookout for danger, and I could feel my body grow even more tense in response. I wanted to believe in something more hopeful; Annika was finally coming home, and I should have been overjoyed to see her. Yet, her arrival felt wrong in some unexplainable way. Deep within my _pagh,_ I knew this was the endgame. We were about to be checkmated.

And I couldn’t shake the sense that it was ultimately my fault.

* * *

Within fifty-six hours of Annika’s arrival, we managed to call quite the gathering at Deep Space Nine. The wardroom was abnormally crowded, with extra seats added to the long table at its center. When Admiral Kira strode in to take her place at the head of the table, only two chairs remained empty.

Kathryn sat immediately to Kira’s right, followed by Julian and myself. B’Elanna was beside me, being that she was the Federation ambassador to Qo’nos. Next to her was General Worf of the Klingon Defense Force— a top advisor to Chancellor Martok— and his wife Ba’el, the Klingon ambassador to the Romulan Republic. The seat at the foot of the table was empty, as was the seat beside it. Across from General Worf sat Senator Vorath of the Romulan Republic, followed by Elim Garak and Iliana Ghemor. Finally, to Kira’s left, were Ambassador Odo and Prime Minister Ro Laren.

At Kira’s signal, the doors on the far end of the wardroom slid open. Chakotay was the first to step inside, tall and muscular in his command-red uniform, thick silver hair cut short as always. Following behind him was Annika, perfectly-postured and painfully tense inside of her loose-fitting civilian clothes, looking so very out of place among the aged crowd. Last to enter were two of the station’s security guards, who took their posts at either side of the door.

As Chakotay approached the table, I snuck a quick glance at Kathryn. It wasn’t terribly subtle, but she didn’t seem to notice. For the first time since her arrival on the station, I saw her gravitas falter at the sight of her ex-husband and former first officer. 

His deep brown eyes met hers, gentle and perceptive, yet he did not smile. “Admiral,” he said, dipping his head.

“Captain,” she replied.

B’Elanna shifted in her seat.

Ever the gentleman, Chakotay pulled back the chair at the end of the table for Annika before taking his own seat beside her. Only then did he finally meet my gaze, and his lips twitched upward.

I let out a breath and smiled back.

“Welcome to Deep Space Nine, Miss Hansen,” Kira said.

Annika inclined her head. “Thank you, Admiral. I am sorry that my visit must occur under such unpleasant circumstances.”

“So am I. You said that you were captured by the Borg and put into stasis.”

“That is correct.”

“When were you captured?”

“Stardate 58512.”

“So you have been in stasis for the last twenty-three years?”

“By Terran standards, yes.”

Kira folded her hands on the table. “Before we get into any negotiating, I think we’d all like some reassurance that this isn’t a deception. Based on my own experience, as well as the extensive research Doctors Eelo and Bashir have done on Borg psychology and neurology, I have to say that I doubt your claims of a Borg collective willing to negotiate terms for peace. The Borg have never negotiated with anyone before, not for a thousand years. Why now?”

“Your concerns are valid,” Annika said. “I, too, was surprised upon being awakened from stasis. When I was captured by the Borg, I expected assimilation or destruction, not conversation. I cannot offer you any absolute certainty beyond the fact that I am here, I am an individual, and the offer I have brought may be the only thing that prevents the Borg from assimilating the rest of the galaxy.”

“That’s asking a lot of trust from us that neither you nor the Borg have earned,” Minister Ro said.

“Perhaps we should hear the terms first before we begin passing judgements,” Garak suggested.

“I agree,” said Kathryn. “What exactly does the queen want?”

“You will be given one month to evacuate all personnel and civilians, after which you will surrender the Bajoran system, as well as the space surrounding both termini of the Bajoran Wormhole, to the Borg. This station must be left in tact for the Borg to assimilate. You will also turn over all Borg-centric research, as well as all Borg components that you have collected and stored. Finally—“ She hesitated, her face tensing as if she were in pain. “—you will give Commander Eelo Talia into the custody of the Borg.”

B’Elanna’s body went rigid. “ _What!?_ ”

“Absolutely not,” Chakotay said.

“Interesting,” Garak said. “Very interesting, indeed. And what is it that the Borg are offering in exchange for all of this?”

“Their word that they will not invade any other sectors belonging to the United Federation of Planets or its current allies.”

“The Borg are without honor,” General Worf insisted. “We cannot simply accept their word.”

“What choice do we have?” Iliana asked. “If we say no, they’ll just invade us anyway.”

“You would rather betray one of your own to save yourself?” Ba’el asked.

Iliana scoffed. “No offense to Talia, but she is _not_ ‘one of my own.’ Besides, what’s that thing Vulcans say? The needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few?”

“Or the one,” Senator Vorath added. “And, I believe it was one half-Vulcan who said that— the esteemed Ambassador Spock— as opposed to being a proverb common to the entire species.”

“The point is, if one person has to be sacrificed for the greater good, I’m okay with that.”

“It won’t be just one person,” Ro pointed out. “There are many Bajorans who won’t be willing to evacuate.”

Iliana shrugged. “That’s on them, not the rest of us.”

“Bajor is our home. We’ve been there since before your species had a prefrontal cortex. As for the wormhole, it is our only connection to the Prophets. Can’t you understand why that might be something worth fighting for?”

“It’s a planet, Minister. Pick up your shit and go find a new one.”

Ro crossed her arms. “Funny, that sounds a lot like what your people told the Romulans and Remans after you helped blow up the Hobus star.”

Vorath’s eyebrows twitched as he shifted his gaze from Ro to Iliana.

“Enough,” Kira snapped. “We won’t get anywhere going at each other’s throats.”

“This is outrageous,” Worf said. “I would rather face the Borg in battle than betray a comrade and run like a coward. There is no honor in that.”

“Hear, hear,” B’Elanna said.

Odo spoke next. “I’m surprised no one is curious as to _why_ the Borg would specifically want Commander Eelo.”

Iliana smirked. “Well, if that’s the discussion we’re going to have, then I think we’re missing two very important people.”

“And who might that be?”

“Megan and Jennifer Delaney.”

I had to stifle a laugh. For all that Iliana had changed over the years, her grudge against the Delaney sisters hadn’t changed at all.

Vorath tilted his head. “I fail to see the benefit of bringing a Starfleet field officer and her retired sister into this conversation.”

Annika cut in. “Miss Ghemor is correct in that the officers in question did play a significant role in events leading to our current situation, but so have others who are now absent.”

B’Elanna leaned forward. “What’s that supposed to mean? What role did they play? And who else was involved?”

Annika opened her mouth to speak, but Kathryn cut her off. “It’s not important. Annika, are you currently linked to the hive mind?”

“Yes, but not in the same way most drones are. Prior to my liberation from the Collective, as you know, I was an administrative drone, which required a different neurological approach. Due to both genetic and epigenetic modifications during my development in a Borg maturation chamber, I am currently able to keep my own thoughts separate from the Collective. If I wish to access or communicate with the hive mind, I have that ability. However, I am not compelled by the Borg to do so.”

“Still, I would feel much more comfortable if you stepped out for a few moments so that we could discuss this matter amongst ourselves. I’m sure you can understand.”

Annika dipped her head. “Of course, Admiral.” With that, she stood and exited the room, the two security officers following after her.

Garak wasted no time. “I must say, Admiral Janeway, you did put a stop to that particular side of the discussion quite abruptly. It makes me wonder what exactly the Federation and its intelligence agents know about our current predicament that they are not sharing with their allies.”

Every eye in the room went to Kathryn. She lifted her chin, peering down her nose at the Kardasi man across the table. “I see no reason to dwell on the past. We cannot change it. We can, however, make a choice here and now to deal with what is in front of us, which is exactly what we are here to do.”

A few other voices rose in either support or opposition, but they suddenly seemed to fade into the background. I closed my eyes, mind growing murky as if it was submerged in lakewater. Kathryn’s words echoed in my brain. ‘ _We cannot change the past._ ’

Then, I heard a deep male voice that seemed distantly familiar to me. “They can’t, but we can.”

“Who are you?” I asked the voice, looking around but only perceiving hazy blue light.

“You already know the answer to that.”

“The Prophet who guided me to _Voyager_ ,” I said. “But you’re not like the other Prophets, are you?”

Through the haze, a dark figure appeared. He was little more than a silhouette at first, but as he drew near I could pick out features that I had seen in Starfleet files, Bajoran icons, and the holoimages scattered about my neighbor Kasidy’s home. He was Terran, with dark eyes, brown skin, a bald head, and a black goatee, and he wore a Starfleet command uniform that had been out of circulation for decades. I knew his name was Captain Benjamin Sisko, former commander of Deep Space Nine.

Still, I fell to my knees. “Emissary.”

With a warm hand beneath my chin, he guided me back to my feet. “The path you walk is not linear, Eelo. Death is before you, but hope lies behind you.”

I frowned. “You mean I have to go back in time to fix this?”

“Who are you?”

Without thinking, the old answer Marnah had drilled into me as a child burst from my lips. “I am Eelo Talia of Kendra, house of the guiding star of Bajor.”

“Do you walk the path of the Prophets?”

Like a child caught in a lie, I felt a strong sense of guilt fill my chest. “No,” I murmured, “I do not.”

“I disagree,” Sisko said. “Who are you?”

Although I was tempted to ask the Emissary what he wanted me to say, I chose instead to give my own answer. “Commander Eelo Talia, a research psychologist in the service of Federation Starfleet.”

“Who else are you?”

“Wife to Harry, partner to Tom and B’Elanna, mother to Peldara and Miral, child of Earth and Bajor.”

“Who else?”

“Former Maquis rebel. Former officer aboard the USS *Voyager*. Explorer. Survivor.” I paused, withholding the more brutal and honest words I had long held close to my _pagh_.

“Speak them,” the Emissary said.

I hung my head. “Danger. Killer. Weapon. Failure. Unworthy.”

“Name that which you hold most against yourself.”

Annika’s strong jaw, blonde hair, and blue-green eyes wafted to the surface of my thoughts. There were any number of ways that I could have intervened to save her and, ultimately, save us all. If Marnah had been honest with me about what I truly was— or if I had figured it out sooner— I could have stopped this whole war and kept Annika from acting too quickly. I knew it wasn’t entirely fair to hold myself so completely accountable, but that did nothing to alleviate the guilt— or worse, my deep sense of shame.

“Name it,” he prodded.

“Losing Annika on that mission, and abandoning her to the Borg.”

“The path of the Prophets is not always clear. Sometimes, you have to be the one to clear it. Your path is not linear. You are not a prisoner to fate. Seek your redemption with forgiveness for yourself, and you will find the path to peace.”

From somewhere else, I felt a slender hand grasp my own. Then, a larger hand squeezed my shoulder and shook me gently.

“Talia.”

My eyes snapped open, bringing the wardroom sharply into focus. B’Elanna was holding tightly to my hand, while Julian was shaking me out of my stupor and calling my name. I looked from one to the other, their worried eyes seeking to understand what was happening to me.

Julian turned to Kira. “Admiral, I’d like a recess so I can examine Commander Eelo in the infirmary.”

“No,” I said, shaking my head. “But, I would like to be dismissed from these proceedings.”

“For what reason?” Kira asked.

“I have to seek the Prophets. It’s our only option.”

Across the room, I heard Iliana scoff. “Oh, for fuck’s sake.”

“The Prophets haven’t spoken to anyone since the Emissary left us,” Ro said. “What makes you think they’ll listen to you now?”

“Talia,” Chakotay said, his voice gentle and supportive, “what did you see?”

“The Prophet who spoke to us when we were in the Nekrit Expanse with Riley’s co-op, and who freed Annika from the Collective. Tay, it’s the Emissary. He was the one with us on _Voyager_.”

“Captain Sisko?” Kira asked. When I turned, her eyes were wide.

I nodded. “Yes, Captain Sisko.”

“What did he say?”

I looked into Kira’s brown eyes— eyes that had long looked upon the wormhole with unflinching faith. “It’s not linear.”

That was all she needed to know. “ _Sona a’Bentel_ ,” she said with a nod, dismissing me.

Glancing at B’Elanna, I gave her hand one last squeeze before letting it go. “I’m so sorry,” I whispered.

She frowned. “For what?”

 _For what the Borg are going to do to the Federation once they realize where I’ve gone,_ I thought, though I kept it to myself. What could I say? Any hint at what I was about to do, and she would try to stop me. Considering how important I apparently was to the Borg, most everyone in the room might try to stop me.

No, I couldn’t explain, nor could I take the time to say goodbye to anyone. I simply shook my head and whispered, “For this.” Then, ignoring every question and protest from others at the table, I stood and turned my back on them all, making my way instead for the nearest runabout.

The Borg would take the galaxy no matter what. General Worf was right— no way would they keep their word indefinitely. But if I was indeed so valuable to them as to induce such odd and desperate behavior, then I needed to ensure they could never get their tubules into me. The wormhole was the only place I knew that would be safe.

So I would walk with the Prophets, just as the Emissary had.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sona a’Bentel: Go with the Prophets


	8. Fire in my Head

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW: Discussions of emotional and sexual abuse, exploitation, sex work, and drug abuse.

**2375**

Within an hour of the vision’s end, Tuvok and I were seated on the couch in Captain Janeway’s ready room. The meld had left me with an abnormal sense of inner calm. I didn’t fidget, shake my leg, or wring my hands. I simply sat, watching Janeway rest her hip against the rail and cross her arms, waiting for an explanation.

Tuvok was more unsettled than I had ever known him to be. He did his best to conceal any outward displays of anxiety, but I could tell by the way Janeway looked at him that even she had noticed the difference. Inwardly, his _katra_ sent a barrage of strong emotions my way— feeling after feeling, mixed and overlapping. It was chaos. I knew they had all originated in me, and he only carried them because of the meld. Yet somehow, for the first time in perhaps ever, I was able to passively observe them as they came and went, like a mindfulness exercise that came inexplicably naturally to me.

Was that what it had felt like for him ever since the day he saved my life and bound our souls together?

The words flowed easily from my lips as I explained everything to the captain— the promise Alixia asked me to make, the dream-visions she had given me, and the dark future they revealed. I told her about the Emissary— that he was the Prophet who had come with me to _Voyager_ to guide us along our path. Were it not for the meld, I may very well have held my tongue from pure embarrassment. It was all so absurd, so far-fetched, and so mystical— way outside of anything I would have normally considered to be likely or rational. I sounded like one of the ancient _ranjen_ -poets, telling their flowery bullshit tales of miracles performed by the Prophets.

Janeway kept a mostly-neutral expression until I mentioned that, after the Borg invasion of Cardassian space, Section 31 had grown and become a legitimate branch of Starfleet. Her eyes widened at that, but little did she know what was coming.

“The Kardasi representatives wanted collateral for their intel,” I told her. “They wanted the identity of the agent in attendance. There were actually three officers at that meeting who had connections to Section 31, but the Kardasi didn’t know that.”

When I paused, Janeway’s brows lifted. “And? Who were they?”

“Myself and Dr. Julian Bashir were loosely connected due, at least in part, to our research. But the agent who revealed their identity to the Kardasi—“ I paused again. “It was you, Captain.”

She gaped at me for a moment, and her eyes were so wide I thought they might pop out of her head. “ _Me_?”

I studied her carefully, looking for any sign of ambivalence or deception. It wasn’t so long ago that she had first brought up Section 31 to me, and every sign pointed to her not being one of them at the present moment. Still, she could have been lying. “Are you currently affiliated with Section 31?”

She looked at Tuvok. “You didn’t tell her?”

“I did not, Captain,” he confirmed.

Janeway looked again at me. “No, Commander, I am not affiliated with Section 31. In fact, Mister Tuvok and I have been actively working to investigate Section 31 for nearly a decade, in hopes of eventually exposing them in a way that will leave Starfleet no choice but to eliminate the agency and strike them from the Federation Charter. So, you can imagine my surprise at your claim that I will work for them in the future.”

“The Federation changed after the Borg took Cardassia,” I offered. “The Starfleet that I saw was not the Starfleet we know. There was no exploration anymore— only defense. Only survival.”

“Given the imminent threat of war with the Borg, I can’t say that I’m surprised. What’s that old saying? ‘ _If you can’t beat ‘em, join ‘em_.’ I suppose that’s what I decided to do.”

“Indeed,” Tuvok agreed.

Janeway sighed. “What else did you see?”

I told her about the intel Iliana and Garak had shared at that meeting. “They knew Marnah worked for Section 31. Evidently, when Gul Dukat joined the Dominion and slaughtered the Bajorans of Valo, he ordered that Marnah be captured alive. He had her brought back to Cardassian space so they could probe her mind for information. They learned about my genetic enhancements, as well as my brother’s. There were a few other things they learned, but it wasn’t much, so they put her into stasis. But the war went badly for them, and she was forgotten. When the Borg invaded, she was assimilated.”

“So your mother is alive?”

Tuvok hissed.

Janeway’s eyes flicked to him. “Tuvok? Are—“

His strained voice cut her off before she could ask after his well-being. “I apologize, Captain, for the outburst.”

I didn’t need to look at him to know he was feeling my pain at the thought of Kardasi torturers carving up Marnah’s brain with lasers at that very moment. I took an unsteady breath and pushed the thought aside. “Yes. She is alive and in the custody of the Dominion. If this future comes to fruition, the Borg will know all she knows. They will turn her into a weapon to bring the last remaining Borg faction to heel under the queen.”

Janeway frowned. “Which queen?”

“The one Annika knew from Unimatrix Zero, the El-Aurian named Loran. The next vision I saw— the first one Tuvok experienced— placed me in Annika’s head. She was in Loran’s custody.”

“Is she there now?”

“No. Right now, she’s somewhere working with the Unimatrix Zero rebellion. But the rebellion won’t succeed. A few years from now, Loran will capture Annika and destroy the last remnants of the rebellion. She’ll use Annika’s knowledge to assimilate all the rival Borg factions into her own. Then, she’ll use Annika against us.”

Janeway looked away for a moment, silently absorbing the weight of my words.

“Captain,” I added, “Loran is a predator. She lied to everyone in Unimatrix Zero about its purpose, and her role in it. She has abused Annika in more ways than one, and she will abuse her again if we don’t get to Annika first.”

Janeway frowned, returning her gaze to me. “A Borg who can lie, manipulate, and wield absolute power over the Collective mind? How is that even possible?”

“I don’t know. I didn’t see how it worked, and evidently all my experience and research into Borg psychology in the future couldn’t explain it, either. But I think that I might be at least partially responsible for her coming to power.”

“Oh? And what makes you say that?”

“Because I was designed to be a weapon against the Borg.”

Janeway’s eyes bulged. “I beg your pardon?”

“By Section 31,” I clarified. “After El-Aurian refugees brought stories of the Borg with them to the Federation, Section 31 designed a bioweapon— a genetic modification nested in dormant genes that are often tied to psychotic symptoms. It’s unlike any naturally-occurring mental illness. This is a one-of-a-kind psychological virus, designed to overwhelm a hive mind’s perceptions of reality. My brother and I were both created with this modification.”

“And the nanoprobes were programmed to activate it.”

I nodded. “Exactly. And when it was combined with Iliana’s virus for splitting Unimatrix Zero drones from the rest of the Collective—“

“—it split the entire Borg Collective into pieces.”

“Right. But things didn’t work out like anyone thought they would. And now, I can no longer be an effective weapon, because all of the Borg factions are familiar with my DNA and the virus imbedded in me. Whoever did this acted too soon.”

Janeway sighed. “We need to find out who modified those nanoprobes.”

Tuvok spoke up. “During the meeting in which intel regarding General Eelo was discussed, it was stated that Captain Michael Thomas Paris was responsible for recruiting her into Section 31. Perhaps clandestine activity, much like formal Starfleet service, is a Paris family affair.”

I frowned, a sick feeling bubbling up inside of me. For the first time since the meld, I couldn’t entirely suppress it. “You think Tom is involved in this?”

Tuvok seemed to sit up straighter, as if the effects of the meld were beginning to wane. “Mister Paris does have access to sickbay, and he is unusually adept at medical practice for a flight control technician— above and beyond even his medic training. Additionally, if you will recall, it was Mister Paris who diverted us from our course to examine the strange readings put off by the gravitational anomaly.”

The sick feeling in my stomach swelled. I shook my head. “No. No. No way did he take us there on purpose. That’s completely ridiculous.”

“I understand your skepticism, Miss Eelo,” Tuvok said. “However, I believe it is a possibility that we cannot afford to overlook.”

“I agree,” said the captain. “We’ll meet again tomorrow, and have Mister Paris join us for questioning. For now, I recommend that you both get some sleep.”

Tuvok nodded. “Aye, Captain.”

“Captain,” I said, forcing my mind away from the strange turn towards Tom and back onto the bigger picture, “you understand that our endgame has to change now, don’t you?”

“What do you mean?”

“We can’t just stay on our course towards home and let this war resolve itself. If we do, the Borg will win. Then, they’ll bring war to the Federation and, eventually, win that one, too.”

Janeway sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose between her thumb and forefinger. “And what do you suggest that we do about it?”

“Find Annika, and help Unimatrix Zero win.”

Dropping her hand to the side, Janeway flashed me an agonized look. “Did Alixia or your Emissary tell you this?”

I shook my head. “They didn’t have to.”

Her eyes slid sideways. “And you, Tuvok? What do you think about this?”

“I also got that impression from the final vision. However, I think it would be wise to avoid making too hasty a decision on this matter.”

Janeway considered us for a moment, then sighed and dipped her head. “Get some sleep— both of you. We’ll discuss it further in the morning.”

* * *

I did not sleep well.

Every so often, when I did manage to lose consciousness, my overactive mind would bring up horrifying images. I’d see Marnah’s assimilated corpse on a biobed, Loran’s teeth stained with Annika’s blood, a thousand Borg ships swarming Bajor, and Tom steering our doomed shuttle into the gravity sinkwell despite my pleas for a return to _Voyager_.

Needless to say, it was a very long night.

The next day’s senior staff briefing was postponed until after our meeting with Tom. Captain Janeway, Tuvok, Tom and I sat clustered around the head of the table, and Janeway locked down the room so thoroughly that only a red alert could have interrupted us.

Tuvok and I had both returned to our normal, pre-meld, selves. He sat straight and still, his expression neutral. I felt like I would rather jump out of my skin and disappear through the nearest airlock rather than have to face the possibility of betrayal from my longtime best friend.

Tom glanced from one person to the next as he shifted nervously in his chair. His eyes lingered on me, and he gave a questioning look.

I turned decisively towards the captain.

Thankfully, she took the hint. “Mister Paris, I have asked you here this morning so that we might discuss a matter of upmost urgency. It is imperative that you answer honestly, regardless of what any other authority may have ordered you to do.” Leaning forward, she fixed him with a firm, narrow-eyed glare. “Not only is this a matter of _Voyager’s_ security, but the survival of the Federation, and perhaps the entire galaxy.”

Tom’s eyes went wide. “Captain?”

“What do you know about Section 31?”

He swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing beneath the skin of his throat. For a long, drawn-out moment, he didn’t reply, nor did he break the captain’s gaze. Finally, he licked his lips and huffed a laugh. “Galactic security, huh?”

“Perhaps,” Janeway said, her tone entirely devoid of the levity Tom had forced into his.

Tom raised his eyebrows. “You’re not sure?”

“If Lieutenant Commander Eelo’s Prophet-friend is to be believed, then yes, that’s exactly what is at stake. But I haven’t quite made up my mind yet.”

His eyes slid over to me. “What do you know?”

“You first.”

The ice in my voice seemed to shatter his flippant attitude. He glanced from me to Janeway and Tuvok, then ran a hand over his face and sighed heavily. “Shit.”

“What do you know, Tom?” Janeway prodded.

“Honestly? Not much.” When Janeway twitched an eyebrow in response, Tom threw up his hands. “It’s true. I was only ever on the fringes. She never told me anything.”

“To what ‘ _she_ ’ are you referring?” Tuvok asked.

Again, he looked at me— that time with an expression of apology. “My handler, Eelo Fayeni.”

“When were you recruited into Section 31?”

Tom’s eyes went to Tuvok. “The answer to that is going to take some explaining.”

Janeway folded her hands on the table. “We’re listening.”

He hung his head and sighed. The room fell into uncomfortable silence for several seconds before he relented. “Alright.” When he looked up, he fixed his eyes on me but spoke to the entire room. “In high school, I was introduced to a little drug we called ‘ _snick_.’”

“Snick?” Janeway asked.

“Marazin,” I said. “The kids at academy prep used to call it ‘ _snick_ ’ because of the sound the vial made when inserted into a hypospray.”

“I see.”

Tom pressed onward. “Anyway, I developed a bit of a problem. My parents didn’t know anything until after Tal convinced me to get help.” He scoffed. “Dad was furious. After that, I just about moved in with Tal’s family— at least until he cooled down. Treatment worked like a charm, and I managed to stay mostly clean through the academy.

“After I was discharged from Starfleet, I took the first transport out of Federation space. I didn’t care where I was going, just as long as no one could find me. Wasn’t long before I found some snick, and I—“ He looked down at his hands. “It destroyed what little was left of my life. Within a year, I had a bounty on my head for all the debts I had racked up but couldn’t pay.”

Taking a deep breath, Tom lifted his head. “I managed to charm my way into some work at a pleasure house in the Orion district on Qo’nos. They kept me safe from debt collectors, gave me food to eat, less-harmful drugs to keep withdrawl at bay, and a room to work and sleep in. At that point, I honestly couldn’t have asked for a better deal.

“One day, some rich lady came in asking for me by name. Paid for the whole night. She kept her face covered, but I honestly didn’t think much of it. I asked how she knew my name, and she claimed I had built up a reputation. There weren’t many Terrans in the area, so it made sense; I was exotic. Anyway, the lady had a good stash of snick with her, which we shared. Then I, uh, got to work.”

Tom started to squirm, and he refused to meet my gaze. He wouldn’t look at anyone— he just stared down at the table. When he spoke again, his voice trembled. “In between, uh, tasks, the woman took off her veil.” He gulped, then looked at me. His blue eyes gleamed like rain puddles beneath a bright sky, and his eyelids flushed red. “The lights were dim, and my head was all fucked up. But I swear to God, Tal— I thought it was you. She had her hair curled and everything. I was just so insanely happy to see you, I—“

Breakfast turned sour in my gut. I didn’t want to know what he was about to say, although he didn’t really have to add anything else. Memories of the night Tom and I had spent together on his cargo ship flashed through my mind— how happy he seemed to have me there, the way his presence filled my lonely world with light, the love we made yet couldn’t seem to speak aloud. I would have let the whole Federation turn to ashes rather than use Tom’s weaknesses against him, but deep down I had always known Marnah was a kind of ruthless that I would never be.

A kind I never wanted to be.

Tom wiped at his cheeks, then took a deep breath and got a hold of himself. “I was horrified when I woke up the next morning and realized it was Fayeni in my bed. She promised to keep it a secret so long as I did everything she asked and, of course, I agreed. The last thing I wanted was for the woman I—“ he paused— “for Tal to find out what I had done. While I got dressed, Fayeni payed off every single one of my debts, and she payed the madam to give me leave. Then, she took me back with her to the Maquis.”

Part of me wanted to request a recess. The room was feeling hot, and I was nauseous. But I held my tongue and gripped the edges of my chair, hoping the feelings would pass by soon.

Tuvok, undoubtedly sensing my distress, cast a glance at me before returning his gaze to Tom. “What did General Eelo tell you about Section 31?”

“Nothing at that point. She gave me a false story to see if I would tell anyone once we got to the Maquis base, but I didn’t. I did what she asked. I showed face, tested with their highest-ranking pilot, crashed parties, fucked around, picked fights, and made sure everyone knew my name. After about a week or so, I guess I gained her trust enough to warrant a piece of the truth.”

He paused again to look at me.

“Go on, Tom,” Janeway said.

He shifted his eyes to the captain. “She told me she was an operative for a secret Federation agency called Section 31, which she had been part of since the beginning of her Starfleet career. She didn’t tell me what her mission was or how Section 31 was involved— only that their operatives were everywhere, and that if I stepped out of line, they were not required to keep _any_ Federation laws. She said that there were always opportunities for advancement, but that I had to earn them. Then, she gave me a databank, put me on a transport back to Qo’nos, and told me to prove my usefulness. I asked her how, and she just said, ‘ _With your head clear, your eyes and ears open_ —‘“

“‘— _and your heart buried deep in the ground_ ,’” I finished with him, clenching my hands into fists. One by one, it seemed, my understanding was shifting around the proverbs Marnah taught me. Had all her wisdom been poisoned with such cynicism? How had I never noticed it before?

“I stayed at the pleasure house gathering intel for months. One of my most interesting clients was a Betazoid woman named Syrenna, who was clearly hiding something important, but I couldn’t figure out what. When she found out I used to be a pilot, she offered me a ship. Evidently, her husband had a shipping business, and he needed good pilots who could outrun raiding parties along the Cardassian border. I told her I was the man for the job, so she took me to meet her husband.

“When I saw the guy, I couldn’t believe my eyes. He used to be my grandpa Mike’s aide way back when I was a kid. He was much older, of course, but still, it was a weird coincidence. Except that it wasn’t actually a coincidence. The guy’s name was Luther Sloane, and he worked for Section 31, too. So did his wife, but she wasn’t _really_ his wife. The piloting job was just a cover; what they really wanted was for me to pass them information on Fayeni and the Maquis.”

Janeway frowned. “Did they tell you why?”

“Only that they thought she might’ve had divided loyalties, and they wanted a non-Bajoran keeping an eye on her.”

She turned to Tuvok, who offered a look of mild surprise.

“Not too long after that, Fayeni sent Seska to bring me back into direct involvement with the Maquis, using my ship to run supplies.”

I held up a hand. “Wait a minute. If you were working separately for two operatives of Section 31, why did they let you get arrested by Starfleet?”

Tom shrugged. “I honestly don’t know. Like I said, they didn’t tell me anything. I was just a messenger. If I had to guess, though—“ He paused.

“What?”

His eyes softened. “Your mom might have suspected I was spying on her, but lately I’ve started to think that was only part of the reason. She knew—“ He licked his lips and swallowed hard. “She always knew how I felt about you, Tal. But she also knew I was a fuckboy, and she knew you weren’t ready to settle down to be the Eelo _tahl’ral_ yet, so she didn’t bother to intervene... until that night, when you visited me on my cargo ship.”

With his admission, a jumbled mess of puzzle pieces suddenly fell into place. Air fled my lungs in a mad rush, and I pressed a hand to my chest. I thought about how Marnah had questioned my affection for Tom the very next day; how suddenly she had cut Seska from her inner circle after learning that Seska left Tom for Chakotay; how she had thrust me at Chakotay despite knowing how competitive I could get around Seska. She had been manipulating all of them, just to manipulate me.

“She did it to split us up,” I murmured.

Tom nodded. “I think so.”

“Because I was supposed to be the future of the Eelo house. Because your Sloane guy was right— her loyalties _were_ divided between serving the Federation and restoring glory to Bajor.”

“Yeah.”

For a moment, no one spoke, allowing our new realization some time to sink into our minds.

Then, Tom broke the silence, stretching his hands towards me. “Tal, I’m so, so sorry. Can you ever forgive me for all of this?”

The sound of his pleading voice snapped me from the haze of epiphany. As I looked at him, the question that had kept me up all night slammed into my mind, sending a hot jolt of anger through me. “The gravitational anomaly. Why did you redirect our course for background subspace fluctuations?”

Tom’s face drained of color. He shook his head— slowly at first, but then more quickly. “N-no. Tal, no. I didn’t—“

My eyes filled with tears. “I was at _ops_ , Tom, and I didn’t see it. How did you know it was there? And why did you even give a shit?”

He ground his teeth to stifle a sob, but he couldn’t stop the moisture welling up in his own eyes. He looked like he was in physical pain. “I didn’t—“

Slapping the table with my palm, I stood and leaned over it so that my face was level with his. “Why, Tom? Why did you take us there?”

“Commander,” Janeway warned.

“Did you intend for me to be hurt so you could turn me into a weapon?”

Tuvok grabbed my upper arms, pulling me away from the table.

“Did you tell Annika how to use me against the Borg?”

“Commander Eelo!”

I both heard and felt Tuvok’s voice, snapping me out of fight mode and shunting energy into higher parts of my brain. At the same time, he sent waves of calm through his _katra_ like a cooling balm on my hot emotions. Suddenly, I realized that Tom was crying, and then I started to do the same. “I’m sorry,” I choked out. “Tom, I’m sorry.”

Seeing that Tuvok was successfully calming me down, Janeway reached for Tom’s hand.

It took him several seconds to regain the ability to speak. “It wasn’t my idea. I promise. I don’t even know what you’re talking about.”

“Tom,” Janeway said, “whose idea was it?”

He glanced around at each of us, looking very hesitant to snitch on someone else. When his eyes came back to me, he relented. “Jenny Delaney. She found the readings using the astrometrics sensor array, and ordered me to detour from our return course so I could get her some better data. I didn’t know why, or what it was. I swear, Tal, I didn’t know. If I had, I never would have— Please believe me.”

As I sank back into my seat, I wiped my eyes with the edge of my sleeve and nodded. “I do. I believe you.”

“Ensign Delaney _ordered_ you to examine the anomaly?” Tuvok asked.

“She’s an agent,” Tom said. “In 31, she outranks me.”

“I think that the both of you should take the rest of the day off,” Janeway said. “Get some rest, go to the holodeck, do whatever you need to do to process this. Obviously, I cannot allow you to share this information with anyone outside of this room, with the exception of Dr. Sinta— although, if either of you do choose to take advantage of his services, I must ask that you share only what is necessary for therapeutic purposes and nothing more. Understood?”

“Yes, Captain,” Tom and I replied.

She nodded, blue eyes full of compassion. “Good. Dismissed.”


	9. Lost the Battle, Win the War

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Source Episodes: VOY 7x25 Endgame, 5x3 Extreme Risk
> 
> CW: Discussions of emotional and sexual abuse, exploitation, and drug abuse.

After leaving the briefing room, Tom cornered me in the corridor and asked to talk. I knew we needed to discuss what I had just learned about Tom and Marnah, but I was emotionally drained and needed some time alone to think. I told him to come by my quarters after lunch. He thanked me, and we parted ways.

Harry was on alpha shift that day, and he was likely already in the senior staff briefing by the time I got to our quarters. I couldn’t help but wonder what he must have thought of my absence and that of Tom, especially on the heels of an unexplained delay in our usual schedule. Even though I had made a full recovery from my recent injuries, he still worried far too much about me. Surely, he must have thought something was terribly wrong when Captain Janeway called the morning briefing to order without my presence. No doubt he would be sending me a text-com the moment he took his station on the bridge, to check on me and make sure I was okay.

I was right. That was exactly what Harry did. Once I reassured him that I was fine, he promised to stop by at lunch. After that, I changed into exercise wear and made for the gym. I had hoped that lifting weights might take my mind off of things for a while, but I replayed the meeting with each repetition. I went back to my quarters, showered, had a quiet lunch with Harry, then waited for Tom to come by.

The door chimed at exactly 1300 hours.

Tom was definitely nervous, but he was also determined to get answers. It wasn’t long before he got to the point. “How did you know?”

“For the last week, I’ve been receiving visions from Alixia. She’s been giving me glimpses into our possible future— a future we will have if we keep heading for home instead of helping to fight this war against the Borg. It’s—“ I paused. “It’s not good.”

“And these visions showed you that I was involved with Section 31?”

I shook my head. “Not exactly. It’s complicated, and I’m not sure how much Captain Janeway would want me sharing with you.”

“I see.” He dipped his head, looking at his fingers as he slid them up and down the armrest of the couch.

“I did see you, though. Indirectly, at least.”

He looked up. “What do you mean?”

“Well, I never saw or spoke to you in any of the visions, but I did talk about you, made plans to see you, and thought of you.”

He frowned slightly, looking unsure of how to take that information.

“You and B’Elanna, me and Harry... we were married.”

His eyes widened. “You mean, all four of us?”

“Yeah.”

He considered this for a moment, then nodded approvingly. “Alrighty, then,” he said. “I didn’t think B’Elanna had it in her.”

“Well, it’s not like we were all with each other sexually,” I explained. “According to Bajoran law, we were one family unit, but we didn’t even live together full time.”

Tom ticked his eyebrows. “Bajoran law?”

“I was stationed at Deep Space Nine. We owned a house on Bajor, but only you and B’Elanna really lived there. Harry and I lived on the station. He and B’Elanna both traveled a lot, and when they were away, you would usually come up to keep me company.”

He flashed that sly flyboy smile— the one that always implied mischief— but beneath the surface I recognized a glimmer of genuine hope. “Seems like a pretty good system.”

“It’s gotten me thinking about why we ever broke up to begin with, and if we could still make it work in the future.”

“Well, based on what you just told me, it sounds like we do.”

I hummed, tilting my head to one side. “With caveats, and only because of extreme circumstances.”

He frowned. “What do you mean?”

“In that future, _Voyager_ stayed in the Delta Quadrant for another nineteen years. You and B’Elanna had a daughter, and soon after, so did Harry and I. I only saw bits and pieces, but I suspect we became a family out of necessity more than anything you and I shared.”

Tom let out a huff of air, and he looked almost dreamy. “A daughter. Wow.”

I smiled. “She was a good kid. She looked like you both.”

“You saw her?”

I nodded. “She called me _yani_ , which is a Bajoran term for an aunt or uncle, and I called her my daughter.”

Tom took my hands, grinning fully. “It sounds perfect.”

The look on his face sent a stab of pain through my chest. Tentatively, I gave his hands a squeeze before slipping mine away. “We made it work, but like I said, it was a way to survive a hard life. Nine years from now, the Borg invaded Cardassian space. The Federation was able to stop them before they reached Bajor, but from then on it was always just a matter of time until they adapted and pushed into Federation space. By the time we finally made it home, the Federation was a very, very different place.”

“We lived on the front lines?”

“Yeah.”

He sighed. “Jesus.”

I laughed mirthlessly. “You can say that again. From the Delta Quadrant to the edge of assimilation.”

“I see what you mean about a hard life.” He dipped his head. “That couldn’t have been easy on the kids.”

“No, it couldn’t have been. My guess is that, in time, it was better for everyone to just accept that we all needed each other— and that you and I needed something more. But, I think it only worked long-term because you and I were secondary to each other. It made our time more special, and afforded us a certain distance—“

“So we wouldn’t bicker so much and start actually fighting each other,” he finished.

I offered him a half-smile.

He chuckled and shook his head. “Is that really the only way you and I work?”

“I don’t know. But, I’ve started to think that maybe we were onto something all those years ago when we agreed we were better off as friends. And then, there was something Tuvok said—“ I paused, looked away, and bit my lip.

Tom put a hand on my shoulder. When I turned to look at him, his eyes were a striking shade of blue. “What? What did he tell you?”

I licked my lips and took a breath. “On that planet, in the gravity well, Tuvok saved my life with a mind meld.”

At the mention of the worst day of my life, Tom’s face twisted into something resembling agony, and I had the thought that perhaps it had been one of the worst days of his life, too.

Despite the ache in my throat, I pressed on. “Except, it wasn’t an ordinary mind meld. See, Vulcans have something called a _katra_. It’s usually equated to the concept of a soul, but it isn’t quite the same. I don’t know the science behind it— Vulcans are very secretive about their spiritual beliefs— but it has been known to preserve life in cases where no traditional medical treatment can. With that meld, he didn’t just forge a temporary mental bond with me. He bonded his _katra_ to my _pagh—_ my soul— in order to save my life. And now we’re bound together permanently with a telepathic spiritual tether.”

Tom sort of gaped at me for a moment as he processed what I had said. Then, his focus grew distant, as if he were thinking back to that night and replaying it in his mind. Moisture began to gather in the corners of his eyes, but he blinked it back and focused on me. “I’m not sure what to do with that.”

“The thing Tuvok said to me— Tom, he _knows_ me now, in a way no one else ever could. He can feel my feelings. Combine that with all his silent observations over the years—“ I let the idea drop there, not entirely sure how to finish it. “When he was first explaining this to me a few days ago, he mentioned how I often turn to sex to cope with negative feelings. It wasn’t even his point— just a throwaway comment, really— but I can’t shake it. And since then, I keep thinking about how much I have used people like that, just to avoid feelings I couldn’t stand to feel.” I paused, watching his steady gaze. “How many times did I use you like that?”

Tom scoffed. “It’s not like I was any different.”

I nodded. “I had that thought, too. Out of all the times we were together— before the gravity well— I can only think of one that really meant something more to me than hormones or coping mechanisms.”

“The night on my cargo ship,” he murmured.

Again, I nodded.

Tom opened his mouth to speak, hesitated, frowned, and shook his head.

I was almost certain I knew what he was thinking. It was the same thing I had mulled over and over again in my mind since our meeting that morning. “If it hadn’t been for the night Marnah went to you, disguised as me, you’d be able to say the same, wouldn’t you?”

His muscles tensed, and he pulled his hand from my shoulder to shove it through his hair. He swore, paced across the room and back again. When he returned, his eyes were shot with red.

My chest clenched in response. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have—“

“No, you’re right. You’re absolutely right. That was the first time I knew that I was in love with you, and it wasn’t even you.”

“And now that we both know it, it’s always going to be in between us— just another thought that provokes feelings we want to avoid with bad coping mechanisms. How healthy could a relationship like that ever be?”

He ran a hand over his face and sighed. “Not very healthy.”

Stepping forward, I took his hands into mine. “Tom, I’m so sorry for what my mother did to you. You asked if I could forgive you, but there’s nothing to forgive. She knew about your addiction, and she used it against you. She mislead you, raped you, and blackmailed you. You can’t hold any of that against yourself.”

He wrenched his hands from mine, throwing them out to either side as he let loose a sound that was somewhere between a yell and a sob. “How can I not? I let it happen! I put myself in that position. I took the drugs, I fucked her, and I lied to you for years! I took my orders and changed course to the gravity well without question, and I lied about that, too. I would have taken all of it to my grave if it weren’t for your visions. I could have stopped it at any point— said no, talked to you— but I didn’t. What kind of a friend does that? How could it _not_ be my fault?”

“You said it yourself. You were just the messenger. You had no power, no influence. You’ve done what you had to do to keep going forward— to survive. Marnah _chose_ to use you— to deceive you into doing something you wouldn’t otherwise do. That’s on her. Section 31 has chosen to use you, too. They don’t need you, but they still make you play their games because they know they can benefit from it, and they know you stand to lose if you fight back. None of that is your fault, Tom. Do you hear me?” I stepped closer and cupped his face in my hands. “ _None_ of it was your fault.”

His face crumpled like a bateret leaf in a flame. Choked sobs escaped his lips, and his chest heaved with the effort of gasping in air. Wrapping my arms around his neck, I drew him close, nestling his face against my shoulder as I held him in a tight hug. We stayed like that for a long while, until he cried himself out. When he finally calmed down, I guided him to my couch and helped him sit. Then, without a word, I crossed to the replicator to get him some water. We let the silence linger between us for several minutes, until Tom finished his water and stood.

“I’m going back to my quarters,” he said wearily.

I stood, too. “Okay.”

He met my gaze and hesitated, as if unsure of how to leave things between us. I couldn’t help but think that he looked like a lost little child, and I almost started to cry for the shards of youthful innocence that still lingered in his own soul. Every time he found one and picked it up, hoping to reclaim something of the boy he never got to be, it just seemed to cut him even deeper. It wasn’t fair. He deserved so much better.

“Tommy,” I said, “you are my best friend. No matter what happens, or doesn’t happen, you will always be my family. Nothing can change that.”

He blinked, clearing the confusion from his eyes, and nodded. “So will you, Tal,” he murmured. Then, setting the empty glass on the coffee table, he turned around and left.

In the quiet that followed his absence, I laid down on the couch to stare at his empty water glass. Tiny beads of condensation lined the outside of it— he always liked his water chilled— and they were starting to roll down the surface. One at the top would succumb to gravity, and as it fell, it would collect countless smaller droplets to drag along with it, growing fatter and rolling faster as it neared the table. Inevitably, it would fall far enough to disappear into the pool ringing the bottom of the glass.

I watched this happen a few times before my vision began to blur with tears. I didn’t sob or shake, but quietly grieved the loss of a romance that had always been more of a lifeline than a partnership. I was done being a user. I refused to be like Marnah.

I grieved, too, for this second death of my mother— the death of the woman that I used to think she was. Despite her familiarity to me, I had thought of her as a flawless creature of myth, even into my adulthood. The illusion was shattered and beyond repair, for she was no longer an impossibly good hero. Instead, she had become another villain.

It was worse than believing she had died on Valo I.

I was still lying on the couch, empty and silent, when Harry returned from his shift. He didn’t ask what was wrong— didn’t need to. He knew nothing about the circumstances behind my grief, but he was familiar enough with the different shades of my depression to recognize a flare-up when he saw it.

Soon, Schmullis was there with a hypospray to coax me back into reality. Medication couldn’t erase my grief or cure my illness, but it did give me access to the deeper emotions that lay beneath the paralyzing sadness, and it gave me the ability to begin processing those feelings. Color seeped slowly back into my world— I hadn’t noticed it was missing— and I sat up. Schmullis authorized extra replicator rations for Harry and me so we could eat dinner in the safety of our quarters rather than making me face the exhaustion of socializing in the mess hall.

Even after Schmullis left, Harry didn’t ask any prying questions. All he wanted was to know that I was alright, and to let me know that he was there to listen if I wanted to talk.

I didn’t. I wasn’t even sure I could, given the classified nature of the information. So instead, when we reclined on the couch together after dinner, I curled up close to his chest, my ear resting just above his strong heart, and I let the drumbeat lull me into sleep.

* * *

It wasn’t until the next morning that Captain Janeway made up her mind on the matter of whether or not _Voyager_ and _Equinox_ would play a role in the war against the Borg. That morning, the briefing room was filled with _Voyager’s_ senior officers, plus Elentia and Captain Ransom. At the sight of our guests, I knew right away what Janeway’s decision would be.

But first, they deserved an explanation.

Everyone had a million questions for me, which Tuvok helped to answer. We left out any mentions of Section 31, of course— that was classified. We also stopped short of revealing the identity of the Prophet; given that Captain Sisko was still— in our time— a physical presence in the Alpha Quadrant, we thought it was best to keep that to ourselves. But, I told them everything else I saw, and I told them what the Prophet had said to convince me that finding Annika was of upmost importance. Naturally, there was a lot of skepticism, but at least everyone agreed that defeating the Borg was in the best interests of everyone. In fact, all of _Voyager’s_ senior officers were enthusiastically supportive of taking up the fight against the Borg, even if it meant delaying our trip home.

“For a lot of us,” Harry said at one point, “getting home is what we’ve wanted more than almost anything. But when I think about all that we’ve been through together, maybe it’s not the destination that matters— maybe it’s the journey. And if that journey takes a little longer so we can do something we all believe in, I can't think of any place I'd rather be, or any people I'd rather be with.”

“Hear, hear,” said Tom.

With the support of her senior officers, Captain Janeway announced her decision. We were going to war.

Ransom was none too happy about the situation— too many variables, too much risk, and a lot riding on the word of a Bajoran god and an Ocampan girl he had never met. After making his dissent known, however, he accepted Janeway’s orders like the soldier he was determined to be. 

Elentia, on the other hand, was extremely pleased. She had hoped for such an outcome, and she confessed that it was part of why she had come to _Voyager_ despite the trip taking her so far away from her wife. We were already scheduled to make a short stopover at a small Zahl station in two days, where Elentia and Sinta had planned to leave us, so the timing was quite convenient. She agreed to coordinate our entry into the war with the other allied forces, and promised to help us in our quest to track down Annika.

With that out of the way, Janeway dismissed Ransom and Elentia from the room so that the rest of us could get on with our usual staff meeting. After checking in with each of us on divisional and departmental updates, Harry spoke up about another matter— shuttles.

After losing _Drake_ in the gravity well and _Cochrane_ in the Borg sphere heist, we were down to only one shuttle— _Tereshkova_. She was a nice little type eight, and still in top order, but we would definitely need more than just her and Neelix’s ship to get around. Tom had been itching to build a shuttle from scratch for years, but we never really needed it before, so it wasn’t a priority. It surprised me a bit that Tom hadn’t already been pressing for it, but he hadn’t acted much like himself ever since we got back from the gravity well.

Neither of us had, really.

I had a sneaking suspicion that Harry was pressing for it now as a way to force himself, Tom, B’Elanna, and me to work together. He probably hoped that it would revive our friendship. Maybe it would. Either way, he was absolutely right that we needed more shuttles.

When Harry broached the topic, Janeway’s eyes went to Tom. “May I presume that you would support this endeavor, Mister Paris?”

He shrugged. “We’ve needed something bigger and better since we got to the Delta Quadrant. It’s time we built it.”

“Any ideas for the shuttle’s design?” Chakotay asked.

“A few,” Harry said with a smile.

“Actually,” B’Elanna said, “I was just telling Harry yesterday about that multispacial probe Tuvok, Annika, and I designed a few months ago. I think I could modify the shielding to work for a shuttle.”

“Using Borg-inspired shielding as we prepare to go to war with the Borg,” Chakotay observed.

Janeway grinned. “It has a certain poetry to it, don’t you think?”

“It does,” he agreed, smiling back.

Despite my recent, persistent gloom, I couldn’t help but smile, as well. There hadn’t been much levity among any of the senior staff since losing Annika, and even after learning of her survival, the general attitude had remained unusually grim. Everything had begun to seem rote at best, or grating at worst. We were all getting tired of _Voyager_ , tired of our isolation in the Delta Quadrant, and tired of our increasingly abstract goal of getting home.

Yet it seemed that having a cause to unite over had renewed everyone’s energy almost instantly. The excitement in the room was palpable, and the optimism was contagious. Between Janeway’s decision to take a stand against the Borg and the opportunity to design a new shuttle, our crew was pulling together for the sake of this purpose we had found within our exile.

Harry’s words from a few minutes before replayed in my head. ‘ _Maybe it’s not the destination that matters— maybe it’s the journey_.’ I glanced at him and found that he was smiling, too. Of course he was; it was Harry who reminded us of who we were.

“Does this mean I finally get a ‘yes’ for building my shuttle?” Tom asked, still hesitating to let himself get too excited.

Tuvok ticked an eyebrow. “ _Your_ shuttle?”

Tom huffed. “You know what I mean.”

“You mean that nobody else will be allowed to fly your baby around once she’s been built,” B’Elanna teased.

He rolled his eyes. “Of _course_ other people will fly her. Just, you know... carefully.”

Janeway chuckled. “Alright, you’ve convinced me. Get to work on a design. I want a draft on my desk by the end of next week.”

Tom smiled. “Yes, ma’am.”


	10. Waking from the Dead

For the next two days, we were all rather focused on preparing ourselves and our ships for joining the war effort against the Borg. Due to the Federation Charter, we couldn’t officially call ourselves full allies in the war effort. This was Janeway’s mission, not Starfleet’s or the Federation Council’s. We were merely responding to a request for assistance from our ally, Queen Nessav Kyana of the Krenim Commonwealth. 

To the Unity forces, however, we were already one of them.

Many of the allies owed their entry into the war, at least in part, to us— Unimatrix Zero, the Unity One Co-op, the Sakari, the Zahl, the B’omar. It was strange and a bit surreal to think of just how much _Voyager_ had impacted the Delta Quadrant, whether unwittingly or on purpose. Yet, none of us could have predicted how important our first contacts with these peoples would ultimately be.

And nothing brought people together quite like a common enemy.

I kept myself busy enough to avoid getting pulled into Harry’s shuttle project. “Flying is just a hobby for me,” I said when he pressed me about it. “You’re better off with real flyers, like Tom.”

The truth was that I simply couldn’t face Tom yet. Did he see Marnah when he looked at me? Was I stained by her sins? Had I been repeating her mistakes?

I did manage to get a walk-in session with Sinta before he left. Talking to him about my dreams, the Prophet, all the puzzle pieces I was trying to put together— it really did help. I even told him some of the things I learned about my mother, and how hard it was for me to integrate that with the woman I thought I knew. Although I left out Tom’s name, I knew that if Tom ever brought this story up in session with Sinta, our therapist would put the pieces together. Would it affect the way he worked with either one of us?

But I couldn’t let myself linger on that thought, lest it become another reason for me to withdraw even deeper inside myself.

Loathe as I may have been to admit it at times, I needed Sinta behind me. I was a professional and an officer, and I could carry on with work despite a massive amount of strain, but I could only give my best to patients if I was at my best. For too long, I had been alone in my field, the only counselor on both _Voyager_ and _Equinox_ , and my own well-being had suffered deeply for it. I needed to lean on Sinta in order to support the weight of these crews on me.

I also explained to him about the _katra_ -connection I shared with Tuvok. He was a bit concerned at first— understandable, given that Vulcan philosophy was ostensibly about suppressing emotions, and mental health professionals tended to promote the opposite.

“You’re right,” I told him when he voiced his concerns, “most Vulcans do embrace the suppression or purging of emotions as a way to control them. But, many who work with alien species are also aware of the fact that Vulcan emotions function quite differently from those of other peoples, and Vulcans familiar with xenopsychology do not encourage emotional suppression in other races. It’s hard to argue with centuries of research.”

“Is Lieutenant Commander Tuvok familiar with xenopsychology?” Sinta asked.

“Familiar enough.”

He considered this for a moment, his amber eyes narrowing and his mind most likely probing mine.

I took a breath and forced my mental guard down, opening my scarred and reluctant mind to his. It was something I had to consciously do, fighting that bad habit of closing myself off. ‘ _He’s safe_ ,’ I reminded myself. ‘ _I need this_.’

He reached for my emotions as if reaching for my hand, but then he pulled back. “I’m sensing resistance, and it’s stronger than usual. Can you tell me about that?”

“Same as always,” I said with a sigh. “I don’t like being exposed.”

“Is it merely discomfort this time?”

I frowned, turning my thoughts inward. Was it just that habitual avoidance of mine— that unease with vulnerability? It did feel a bit different, but could that simply be me? “We’ve only had one other session this time around,” I reasoned aloud, “and it’s been a long time since our work before. I’ve changed.”

He dipped his head. “Yes, you have.”

“Maybe I’m just different now.”

“Do you think that’s all your resistance is— that it only seems stronger to me because of how you have changed since our last war?”

Was it? It didn’t feel right when he reflected my own reasoning back to me. Was there something else in the way? I searched myself, but came up empty, so I shook my head. “I don’t know.”

“I notice that you’ve stopped wearing your earring again,” he said. “I wonder if you would still be alright with the somatic exercise we used to do?”

I smiled, dipping my head. “Yes, that’s fine, Sinta.” Leaning forward, I rested my elbows on my knees.

Sinta leaned forward, as well, reaching a hand out to my left ear. I closed my eyes and focused on the feelings his touch aroused— the sense that my _pagh_ was reaching for connection to his.

“Your people may not be known as telepaths,” he said, “but the belief in soul-connection through the left ear is too prevalent to ignore. You have the building blocks of telepathy— as, I suspect, most humanoids do. Breathe.”

Obediently, I breathed as deeply as I could, then exhahaled long and slow.

“Your _pagh_ was strong before, but it is even stronger now. Breathe.”

Again, I did as he asked.

“What do you feel in your body right now?”

I took a moment before answering, mentally scanning my body and allowing myself to notice all sensations. “My chest is tight, and it takes effort to practice deep breathing. I think my heart rate might be a bit high, but it’s not pounding. My shoulders and neck— the muscles are tight there, too. My fingers and toes are a bit cold, and slightly tingly.”

He waited a bit to allow for more observations. When I made none, he asked, “If you were to name an emotion that might go along with what you feel in your body, what would that emotion be?”

“Anxiety,” I said.

“Could that anxiety be the source of your resistance to a telepathic connection with me?”

But it was wrong— the emotion I had named. I shook my head, eyes still closed. “No, it’s not anxiety. It’s fear.”

“Fear of what?”

“Of being a monster,” I said without thinking. My mind repeated the word, taunting me. ‘ _Monster, monster, monster.’_

Then, for a moment, there was nothing.

“Talia? Are you with me?”

My eyes snapped open and I gasped, as if I had just been nudged awake after nodding off. But I hadn’t fallen asleep; I had dissociated.

“Breathe,” Sinta said.

I did as he asked.

Then, he released my ear. “If you don’t mind, would you sit back?”

I pressed myself into the soft cushion of the loveseat behind me.

“Go ahead and place one hand on your forehead and the other over your heart.” Once I did as he instructed, he added, “Breathe,” counting to four to time my inhale and ten for my exhale. This we repeated several times over.

“How do you feel in your body now?”

My eyes had fallen closed during the breathing exercise, and I let them remain closed as I scanned my body once again. “Not so tense. My heart is back to baseline. I can breathe easier. My hands are warm. I feel... okay. I’m okay.”

“Go ahead and release your hands.”

When I opened my eyes and let my hands fall into my lap, I saw a gentle smile cross Sinta’s face.

“You said that you were afraid of being a monster,” he said. “Now that you are feeling more secure in your body, do you still agree with that statement?”

My mind seemed to be more steady and clear. “Yes.”

“What did you mean by that?”

“I don’t want to be like my mother. I don’t want to be ruthless, to use people, manipulate people. But I never recognized her for what she was. What if I can’t see it in myself? I’ve manipulated people. Used people. Even killed people. What if I’m a monster, too?”

Sinta sat back, crossing one knee over the other. “Ruthlessness. Manipulation. Using others for selfish gain. Are these examples of behavior you think of as monstrous?”

“Yes, sometimes.”

“But not always?”

I paused to think about my answer. “It can depend on the reasons behind doing them. Sometimes, we have bad days and do things we wish we hadn’t. Sometimes, bad things are necessary for a greater good. I’m sure my mother thought her actions were a means to a better end, and that they were worth it because of what the Federation and Bajor stood to gain.”

“What do you think?”

I looked him squarely in the eyes. “Rape is _never_ worth any outcome, no matter what.”

“Alright, so acting a little antisocial in certain situations may not qualify as monstrous, but certain acts do cross the line.”

“Right.”

He nodded, then stroked his chin. “These are behaviors, though, and as you said, behavior can often be tricky to judge apart from its context. I wonder if there are any deeper characteristics that you think of as monstrous?”

The image of Marnah as a drone flashed through my mind, followed by Loran’s bloody smile. “Coercion,” I murmured. “Consistent patterns of seeing other people as props, refusing to think of them as people just like us, using threats or power imbalances to make them act how we want them to— regardless of how it might affect them— and never being sorry for it.” I met his eyes again. “That’s monstrous.”

“By that standard, do you think you are a monster, Talia?”

I thought of all the horrible things I had done through the years— the Kardasi boy I killed at Korma, the thousands of people who had died because of my assistance in the Maquis and Zahl rebellions, the murderous thoughts I’d had about Seska just before we pulled her from that small Kazon shuttle, the lovers I’d used and cast aside like Tom and Chakotay, the way I broke Harry’s heart when I cast him aside, too. I thought of all the times I labeled myself as a monster, and how learning about modified nanoprobes and genetic enhancements had only cemented that belief.

But Sinta’s question was valid. Was any of that truly monstrous? I thought about my definition, whether or not it was accurate, and how it compared to the evidence I had used to judge myself.

Then, like a black veil pulled back from my face, I recognized my own cognitive distortion for what it was— a lie I had told myself to explain the bad things I had done, and which I adapted to make sense of bad things that were done to me. The more I thought about that, the more clear the reality was.

And the more free I felt.

I smiled and huffed a laugh as moisture trickled into my eyes. “No. No, I’m not a monster. I’m just another fucked-up human being.”

Sinta grinned. “Not so unlike the rest of us.”

“No, I guess not.”

* * *

The next day, _Voyager_ and _Equinox_ docked at the Zahl station, and I said my good-byes to Elentia and Sinta. Admittedly, I felt a bit lost as I watched them both step onto that transporter pad and dematerialize in a blue beam of light. Sure, I’d had a breakthrough in my session with Sinta, but where was I to go from there? And who else could so easily understand me the way Elentia did?

Almost as soon as I left the transporter room, Chakotay commed, asking me to report to his office.

“Have a seat,” he said when I got there, and I did as he asked. “I’m working on duty rosters, and I wanted to discuss some changes I’ve made to your schedule.” He spun the computer console around to face me.

As I examined the roster, I felt my face cinching into a frown. He had me listed for personal training with him on the holodeck every day the next week. “What’s with all the sims?”

“I want to train you to be ready to face the Borg.”

“You think I’m not ready?”

“The last time you boarded a Borg ship—“

“I did my goddamn job,” I said, leaning as close to Chakotay as the desk would allow. “I did my job, and half of Annika’s, and I did it with two holes in my chest.”

With a sigh, Chakotay leaned back in his seat, crossing his arms and giving me a look that practically screamed, ‘ _See what I mean_?’

But I didn’t see. “What?” I demanded. “What the hell is that look for?”

“Do you hear yourself, Talia? We’ve barely started talking about the heist mission, and you’re already worked up.”

I straightened. “I am not worked up! I’m—“ What word did I need? “—I’m just a little irritated that you think I can’t handle my job.”

He laughed. “A little irritated?”

My ears were practically on fire. “This is funny to you?”

“You’re ready to cut my throat out, and you say you’re ‘ _a little irritated_.’”

My hands clenched into fists, and I had to bite my lip to keep from calling him out on his assholery. Insulting my abilities, singling me out of the entire crew for training, then laughing at me for being offended? I could have jumped across the table and strangled him right there.

But the moment that impulse crossed into my conscious mind, it stopped me cold. I released my fists and let my lip slip from between my teeth. He was right. I was livid— and for what? For being asked to do some mission sims in preparation for the war we had just entered? What was the matter with me?

“Shit,” I breathed as I dropped my head to the surface of his desk. “Fucking goddamn shit.”

I expected to hear his amused chuckle— the usual reaction to the few profanity-laden concessions he had managed to wrest from me over the years— but instead it was his quiet, gentle voice. “Talia.”

When I looked up, there was no victory in his brown eyes, nor haughtiness in his face. But what emotions were behind his expression? It was hard to tell.

“I’ve been reading up on Post Traumatic Stress Disorder lately,” he said.

I frowned and sat up, my anger stirring again. “That’s what this is about? You think I can’t perform because of my trauma?”

His expression hardened, and he tilted his head to the side. “Are we really going to do this again?”

I wagged a finger at him. “Oh no you don’t. This isn’t just a little irritation now. This is real, legitimate anger.”

“Why?”

“Because I’m sick of being treated like a porcelain doll! It’s bad enough that I have Harry and the doc hovering over me, and the captain worrying that she’ll say something to break me. But you? Tay, of all people, I thought you’d be on my side! You know I can handle this. You’ve seen me pull missions in way worse shape. How can you—“

Chakotay grabbed my hand. “Talia, listen to me. I’m not questioning whether or not you can handle any mission. I don’t think you’re weak. I’m on your side. Can you trust me enough to listen to what I have to say? Or do I need to bust your ass for being a disrespectful little shit?”

I huffed, deflating a bit at his candor, then nodded.

He let go of my hand. “I get it. As I was reading, I could relate to a lot of it— the flashbacks, the irritability, the constant alertness for any possible threat. I used to feel like that all the time. Sometimes, I still do. You went above and beyond your duty on that heist mission; I’m not questioning that. But now that we’re going to war with the Borg, you’re one of our best assets. I don’t want you gritting your teeth and fighting a battle in your mind while you carry out whatever missions we put you on— not because I don’t think you can do it, but because, frankly, it’s a waste of a great human resource. So, I’m going to drill you until you can walk onto a Borg ship with no distractions in that genetically-enhanced brain of yours, and you can put all of your mental energy into the real battle in front of you. Understand?”

His words were like a cold-water shower. “You know?”

He nodded. “Kathryn and Tuvok briefed me yesterday.”

I took a few breaths, forcing myself to calm down and take in everything he had said. It wasn’t a threat— not to my ego, my service, or my position. It was good. Smart. After a few drawn-out seconds of silence, I nodded. “Okay. I’ll have to rearrange some of my appointments, but I can do it.”

He nodded. “Good. Dismissed.”

* * *

“I lost it on Chakotay today,” I admitted to Harry over dinner in the mess hall that evening. I wasn’t sure what sort of reaction to expect from him, but I followed the impulse to tell him anyway.

A slight smile curved his lips. “That must have been an interesting meeting.”

I huffed a laugh, but before I could say any more, another voice cut in.

“Who hasn’t lost it on Chakotay at some point?” B’Elanna quipped as she slid into the seat beside me. Setting her tray on the table, she nudged my shoulder with hers. “Can’t be any worse than I’ve done.”

“Don’t you dare go stealing my thunder now,” came Tom’s voice.

Startled, I looked up as he took the seat beside Harry.

He gave me an impish grin. “I’m pretty sure I still hold the record for losing it on Chakotay.”

It was as if I had slipped into some parallel universe where nothing bad had happened between the four of us, but I couldn’t figure out where my reality had shifted. Part of me expected B’Elanna to snap back at Tom— to hear them fall into the flirtatious banter that used to color so many of our times together. Instead, all three of my companions stopped and watched me, conspiratorial half-smiles pulling at their faces.

I frowned. “What’s going on?”

“We want you to help us with the shuttle project,” Harry said.

“Harry told us all about how you’ve been making bullshit excuses,” B’Elanna added, “but we’re not gonna let you get away with it anymore.”

“But—“ I panted and licked my lips. “But what about—“ I waved my hands, gesturing around the table at the four of us as I scrambled for words that wouldn’t come— “this?”

“What, our relationship drama? As much fun as that was, I, for one, am over it.”

When I met her dark eyes, I found a sincerity that added nuance to the levity of her tone.

“Me, too,” said Tom, his own eyes full of apology.

“Me, too,” added Harry for good measure, although he had never been part of the problem.

“So, what,” I asked, “are we all just going to forget everything that happened?” A lump formed in my throat, and I gulped it down. “Everything I did?”

“You act like it was all just _your_ fault,” Tom mumbled.

“It’s over,” B’Elanna said. “We’ve talked about it already— took up an entire goddamn meeting when we should have been working on design specs— but we did, and we all want to move past it.”

Harry took my hands into his. “What do you say? Are you with us?”

I couldn’t hold back the tears any longer, and it wasn’t worth the effort anyway, so I let them fall as I studied every single face around the table. There was no deception in them, no trickery. That was their truth. “Can it really be this easy?” I asked.

B’Elanna scoffed. “Easy?”

“It’s not easy,” Tom said, “but neither is life out here at the ass-end of the galaxy. And things are about to get even harder. Maybe it’s better if we just accept that we need each other’s friendship.”

“Friendship,” I repeated.

“Yeah. Friendship. You know, that thing that’s not quite family, but is maybe even better?”

A blubbering sort of laughter came out of my mouth, bringing even more tears. With one of his hands, Harry reached up and wiped the moisture away. It was a little embarrassing to think about how I was literally sobbing in the middle of the mess hall, but what did it matter in comparison to getting my friends back?

“So,” B’Elanna said, “are you gonna help us with that shuttle, or what?”

I nodded. “Yes. Yes.” With a few decisive sniffles to get a grip on my emotions, I wiped my eyes, lifted my chin, and smiled. “Let’s build a shuttle.”


	11. The Future Now

Upon our arrival at the Zahl station, we found ourselves, once again, having to stop and wait. Elentia had promised to work as quickly as possible to integrate _Voyager_ and _Equinox_ into the war effort, but she couldn’t give us a time frame for when to expect orders.

The delay was fine with me. It gave Tom, Harry, B’Elanna, and I more time to focus on getting our shuttle done.

It was a bit surreal how not-awkward things were between the four of us. We worked well together, and working together made our friendship come more naturally. Harry’s inclination had been right in that respect.

Just a few days into the project, Lieutenant Commander Maxwell Burke visited the holodeck while we worked on the shuttle’s design specs. Tom and I were mid-argument regarding a set of unnecessary tail fins— which Tom wanted to add for literally no good reason besides vanity— when Burke walked in. Suddenly, Tom stopped caring about tail fins and went silent.

“Good afternoon, everyone,” Burke said smoothly as he sauntered over to the scale model that the rest of us were circled around. Sidling up beside B’Elanna, he threw a wink her way. “BLT.”

She smiled. “Max.”

“Didn’t expect you to stop by,” Tom said in what I knew to be his fake-friendly voice.

Burke shrugged. “I was in the area. Heard you were working on a brand new shuttle design, and I couldn’t help myself.”

On _Equinox_ , Burke served as both head flight control manager and first officer. He was young— just two years older than B’Elanna and Harry, and had been a third-year student during their freshman year at the academy. While there, he and B’Elanna had dated before her decision to drop out and move off-planet had split them up for good.

Every time I saw them in the same room together, he was clearly laying on the moves. B’Elanna had never reciprocated, as far as I knew, but Burke didn’t quit trying.

Burke’s behavior with B’Elanna drove Tom up the wall. “He’s like a really charming predator,” Tom told me once before our encounter with the gravity well. “He doesn’t see her as a person, but a conquest.”

Still, Tom refused to lose face in front of B’Elanna, and since he had just affirmed with Harry and me his desire to be B’Elanna’s friend, he did his best to take Burke’s presence at our meeting in stride.

“What do you think?” Harry asked our guest.

Burke stroked his chin as he examined the delta-shaped model. “I like the overall look. Very sleek. It’ll handle atmospheric entry well.” He looked up. “You know what it’s missing?”

Harry frowned. “What?”

“Dynametric tail fins on the nacelles.”

His delivery was so deadpan that nearly everyone thought he was being serious. It wasn’t until B’Elanna scoffed and told him to “get the fuck out of here” that the rest of us realized he was joking. He couldn’t have possibly known that, only moments before, Tom and I had been arguing over that very addition. Seeing Burke’s teasing smile emerge, Harry and I broke into laughter.

Then, I caught Tom’s eye and realized that he was most definitely _not_ amused. Instead, he looked angry and hurt.

“Do you have any _real_ suggestions, Commander?” I asked, quickly regaining my composure.

“You could fit some extra storage, or maybe a couple bunks, if you drop this—“ he gestured to one side of the shuttle’s hull— “all the way down to the wing. It’ll change the airflow a bit, but it won’t be too much to manage, and it’s hard to argue against having more room when you think about long away missions.”

Harry nodded. “That’s a good point. What do you think, Tom?”

Tom shrugged. “Yeah, it works.”

“Talia?”

As much as I hated to feed Tom’s negativity, Burke was right. “I’m all for more bunk space. And if we curve the wing just right, I think it’ll handle atmospheric entry even better than the current design.”

Burke’s combadge chirped, alerting him to the time. “Well, gotta go. Let me know if you want any more input.”

“Will do,” Harry said. “Thanks!”

“My pleasure.” Burke winked again at B’Elanna. “Until next time, BLT.”

B’Elanna shook her head and laughed. “Goodbye, Max.”

As the holodeck doors closed behind Burke, Tom added, “Yeah, I think I’m done, too.”

B’Elanna frowned. “What? Why?”

“I’m beat. You guys can keep at it if you want, but I’m gonna go to bed. See you tomorrow, okay?”

Harry clapped him on the shoulder. “Get some rest, buddy.”

Tom gave a weak smile. “I’ll try.”

I pursed my lips and sighed quietly as I watched him leave. Harry, B’Elanna and I played around with the model for another hour before calling it a night, but I kept thinking about Tom’s reaction to Burke and the warnings he had made to me all those months ago. At the time, he had still been romantically involved with B’Elanna, so I chalked it up to simple jealousy.

Burke was a good man and a great officer. As for his flirtatious nature— well, it wasn’t as if I was a stranger to his type. Tom and I were once insufferable flirts, too. Burke was a young bachelor trapped in a setting with a limited number of potential partners. Who were we to judge him?

 _Jealousy_ , I told myself once again. Tom still saw B’Elanna in his future— an attitude that I had likely encouraged by revealing that they ended up together in the visions Alixia gave me. It hadn’t been my wisest choice, and it was clear to me that Tom’s reaction to Burke in the holodeck was the natural result of my error.

By the time I laid my head on my pillow that night, I decided to put Tom and his jealousy as far out of mind as possible.

* * *

The next day, I had my first session with B’Elanna. Prior to leaving Earth, I would have referred her to someone who had no relationship with her or Tom, but on _Voyager_ I lacked that choice. She had every right to feel uncomfortable talking to the same counselor who was seeing Tom. Plus, there was another problem with referring her out.

“I noticed that you never gave consent to have your medical and psychological records transmitted or discussed via the Turei com-net,” I said.

She lifted her chin. “That’s right. Despite what Harry and your counselor-friend Sinta might say about the low probability of interception, there’s still a chance some Zahl or Turei agent might decide to go snooping, and I don’t want my private information being read by some stranger.”

I nodded. “I understand that. Privacy is important, especially regarding the delicate matters that can come up in counseling.”

The tension in her shoulders eased ever-so-slightly. “Right. I’m glad you understand.”

“I do,” I assured her, “so I want to be clear that you also have the right to say no to the request I’m about to make.”

Tensing once again, she folded her arms and eyed me warily. “Okay.”

“I need supervision to help ensure that my work with you isn’t compromised by any of the other relational roles I play in your life or in the lives of others who are close to you. The only person who can offer me supervision is Sinta.”

She frowned. “Why not Schmullis? He’s got an entire database devoted to psychiatry.”

“He does,” I agreed, “but he has no training or clinical experience in psychotherapy, which is another animal entirely.”

“Okay, fine. Kes, then. I know she studied under you and helped you while Chakotay and the captain were on that planet near Vidiian space. Surely she can do what you need.”

“She only achieved a level equivalent to a bachelor’s degree in psychology, and she mostly focused on keeping my notes and files organized. After we got the captain and Chakotay back, she returned to work on her medical degree.” I sighed. “I’m sorry, B’Elanna. I wish there was another way, but Sinta is my only option.”

She huffed.

“You said you wanted me because I wouldn’t bullshit you. Well, this is the truth. No bullshit. I’m out on an ethical limb here to help you, but I cannot take the chance that my biases might do more harm than good.”

A muscle in her jaw flexed. “I’m not signing that damn consent.”

“I have an alternative proposal— a compromise.”

“Alright.”

“De-identification. When I communicate with Sinta about our work, I will give him no names, ID numbers, job titles, ranks, photos, physical descriptions, or other identifiers that could, in any way, connect the information back to you. Not even Sinta will know who I’m talking about. I’ll tell him only what he needs to know to give me guidance.”

B’Elanna pressed her lips together, as if considering me for a moment before choosing to speak. “If I say no, does that mean you won’t help me?”

I leaned forward, fixing my gaze firmly on her big, brown eyes. “I will _always_ help you, B’Elanna. Always. But it may mean that the extent of my role as your ship’s counselor must be constrained to evals and assessments.”

Casting a glance off to the side, B’Elanna sighed and let her shoulders slump. She shook her head, righted her posture, and looked again at me. “Fine. Give me your damn de-identification form. I’ll sign it.”

I gave a sly smile. “There is none. I am perfectly within my rights to seek supervision on a de-identified patient within the fleet.”

She frowned. “Then why make such a big deal about me agreeing to this?”

“You wanted no bullshit.”

B’Elanna smiled. “Thank you.”

I nodded. “You’re welcome. Now, why don’t you tell me what you came here to work on.”

“Right,” she said, licking her lips. “Well, it’s, uh— I guess it goes back to my parents.”

Never— not once in all the time I had known B’Elanna— had she ever talked about her parents.

“In the last data stream from Starfleet, I got a letter from— from the Klingon Defense Force.” Tears began filling her eyes, but she blinked them back. “Apparently my mom died four months ago in a Klingon attack on the Dominion.”

“ _Qapla_ ’,” I murmured.

“ _Qapla_ ’,” she muttered in reply.

“I’m so sorry, B’Elanna.”

“Yeah,” she said with a sniffle. “Me, too. The last time I saw her was when I left Qo’nos for Earth to attend the academy. We got into this huge argument, and I stormed out of the house. You know what the last thing I said to her was?”

I shook my head.

“I told her I was leaving because I hated Qo’nos, and I hated being Klingon, and I never wanted to be like her. I told her that I was never coming back, and I never, ever did.”

“What was it about being Klingon that you disliked?”

“That’s just it! It wasn’t actually about being Klingon. It was about my dad. That’s what I need to work through. That’s why I came to you. I need to figure out this— this _thing_ with me and my dad and the way he left. Otherwise, I don’t think I’ll ever be able to keep a relationship with anyone.”

“And when you say ‘relationship,’ you mean—“

“Mate. Lover. _par’Machkai_. Whatever the fuck you want to call it.” She wiped a stray tear from her eye. “I’ll never be able to trust myself or anyone else in love.”

I nodded. “I understand. I’m sorry you had to endure all that, and I appreciate you sharing a little bit about your family. There are some real wounds there, but we can work on healing them together.”

She gave a slight smile. “I hope so.”

* * *

It was another four days before the orders came in from Queen Nessav.

“A com signal was intercepted by one of our scouts in a nebula about twenty lightyears from your position,” the queen informed us in a special meeting of the senior staff.

Her long, slender face was framed by strawberry-blonde waves that had been the defining characteristic of the royal Kyana line for centuries. As she spoke, those steel-blue eyes seemed to cut across the thousands of lightyears between Kyana Prime and our little space station at the edge of the Delta Quadrant. Of course, the very same image was being projected into the _Equinox’s_ briefing room, as well— we could see them watching her on our split-screen view. Still, her presence was a force of nature.

The PADD in my hands chirped, drawing my attention to its small display. A star chart was shown, mapping the location of the nebula the queen was speaking of.

“The precise location of the signal is unknown due to interference from nebula gasses,” she continued.

I looked up once more to the viewscreen, finding the queen’s eyes.

“ _Voyager_ and _Equinox_ are, by far, the closest allied ships capable of investigating the source of this signal, as it is too dangerous for our scout to approach.”

“And why is that?” Ransom asked.

“The signal carries a Borg signature.”

Around our table, I heard several people shift in their seats.

“I see,” Ransom said.

“Our Unimatrix Zero allies have analyzed the signal. It is a distress call, but a rather unusual one, according to them. We want you to triangulate the signal and investigate.”

“And what if we determine that the situation is too dangerous for us to handle?” Ransom asked.

I frowned. Not only was Ransom being unusually vocal, but he had not once acknowledged the queen’s rightful position with a proper address. Sure, many of us had gotten lax in our use of ‘sir’ when addressing our superiors, but we had lived together on and off duty for years. Ransom had not once uttered the words ‘your grace’ as he fired questions her way, despite the extreme rarity of interacting directly with her.

If it bothered Queen Nessav, she did not show it. “There is a liberated Borg sphere fifty lightyears from the nebula, which is under the command of a former Unimatrix Zero inhabitant who calls himself General Korok. I have already ordered him on an intercept course with the nebula. If you find the source of the distress signal and determine that it is unwise for you to engage them, you are to exit the nebula and wait for a com signal containing the code that is listed in your briefing notes. That will be General Korok. He will contact you, and you may decide together how to proceed.”

I thought back to the very first time Annika told me about Unimatrix Zero, and all of the species she had mentioned being there. General Korok sounded like a Klingon name and rank. Who had he left behind when the Borg took him? Did they think he died honorably in battle, or did they believe him to be dishonored by the captivity of assimilation?

“Very well, your grace,” Janeway said. “We will proceed to the nebula immediately.”

Queen Nessav dipped her head, and I couldn’t help but smile at the indication that she had begun taking on some of Elentia’s mannerisms. “Thank you, Captain Janeway, Captain Ransom. Shape fate.” With that, her transmission ended, leaving only _Equnox’s_ briefing room on our viewscreen.

“Shape fate?” Ransom repeated. “What the hell does that mean?”

“It’s a Krenim idiom,” Chakotay said.

Swiveling my chair around, I found an amused smile on his face.

“It’s used somewhat like our own phrase, ‘ _good luck,_ ’” he continued, “but it comes from the Krenim belief that the ultimate success is to secure one’s existence in all timelines, making themselves a sort of inescapable quantum reality.”

“The point where volition becomes destiny,” I murmured.

His dark eyes met mine. “Exactly.”

‘ _Space and time and thought are not the separate things you believe them to be, Eelo_ ,’ Q had once said to me. Things that we believed to be fundamentally different were all still connected. The Krenim had studied and mapped space-time, believing that free will and destiny were not actually the opposites they appeared to be. Were they right?

I had spent my whole life wrestling with the destiny Marnah set before me, rebelling and trying to find a way to assert my own free will without betraying her expectations entirely. Could I hold both halves of myself together at the same time? Did loyalty to the family I was born into necessarily oppose loyalty to the family I had chosen on _Voyager_? Could I actively choose to shape my own fate?

“It’ll be just inside of a week to that nebula,” the captain said. She looked from Ransom to Chakotay, Tuvok, me, and the rest of the table, her blue eyes just as sharp as Queen Nessav’s. “Let’s make sure we’re prepared.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just want to take a moment to reiterate that this is not intended to be an accurate representation of current mental healthcare practices. From what I’ve read, dual relationships are tricky and sometimes dangerous, and I do not pretend to be an expert in how a real professional might handle an situation like the one presented in this story. However, this was a development I had planned from the beginning of the series, so I’m sticking to the plan.
> 
> Thanks for reading. :)


	12. Lost in the Static

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Source Episode: VOY 6x16 Collective

No matter how many times Chakotay and I trained on the holodeck, being on a Borg cube still gave me the creeps.

Just as Chakotay had predicted, it wasn’t that I was incapable of swallowing my fear and holding off panic during the mission, but that doing so divided my attention. Sure, I completed missions, but my critical thinking skills weren’t what they could be, and I was always exhausted by the end of the sims. Until we found Annika, I was the best resource we had on the Borg; we couldn’t afford for me to be scraping by in survival mode.

By the last day of training before we were due to reach the nebula, I was doing much better than I had when we began. Or, at least, so I thought.

It started going downhill when our biocloaks malfunctioned. A harsh, deafening klaxon screamed around us. Without a word, Chakotay jerked his head towards an empty corridor that would take us directly to our transport site. We crept along as quickly as we could without making noise, ducking behind conduits and into shadows any time we saw movement. We were so close. So close.

Just as Chakotay cleared the corridor and walked into the open room where _Voyager_ was supposed to beam us out, a drone stepped from the shadows and shoved Chakotay against a wall, snapping the strap of his phaser rifle and casting it across the room. Without thinking, I shot the drone in the back. It went rigid and collapsed, leaving Chakotay clutching his neck and gasping for air. As I stepped into the room, I turned in a circle and looked around the area for any other signs of movement. There were none.

Then, I heard Chakotay cry out in agony.

Whipping around to face him, I saw a drone pressing him against the bulkhead with one arm while the other hand was fisted at the side of his neck, two wicked-looking assimilation tubules pumping nanoprobes into his jugular. The bronze hue of his skin was already turning grey, and implants forced their way out like weeds through a cement walkway. I tried shooting the drone even though I already knew it was no use; the drone’s body shield absorbed my rifle’s discharge.

The Borg had adapted to my weapon’s power signature.

I backed away from the drone and slapped my combadge. “Eelo to _Voyager_ , emergency beam-out!”

No reply came.

Again, I slapped my combadge, but that time, I realized that it did not chirp in reply. My com signal was being blocked. No one could hear me.

The drone released Chakotay and turned to come after me. I was backed into a corner, both hands clinging to a phaser rifle that would do me no good. Just as the drone reached me, I unclipped the strap, turned the rifle sideways, and shoved it upwards into the drone’s nose as hard as I could. The drone’s body flew backwards, but I knew from the sickening _crunch_ of bones that it was dead before it hit the deck.

As soon as I had taken care of the drone, Chakotay was on me, grabbing the rifle and trying to wrest it from my hands. My stomach dropped at the sight of him— face grey, eyes hollow, skin splitting over implants that were still creeping along his face and neck.

It was too real, and I forgot I was on the holodeck. I screamed at him, hoping desperately to reach any last remaining shred of my friend’s consciousness— anything to distract him long enough for me to disable him and find a way to escape— but it was no use. His eyes were empty of all warmth, and his grip was far too strong for me to hold on much longer. I locked my elbows, keeping him as far away from me as possible, but I knew it was only a stopgap move. Dead. I was dead. I was so fucking dead.

Chakotay gave a particularly hard pull, and I let go of the phaser rifle. He stumbled backwards multiple steps, but managed to stay on his feet. Throwing the phaser rifle away from us both, he began to advance on me again, and I reached into my jacket for my knife.

Then, I froze. _This is a simulation._

“Chakotay,” I said warily, “this is probably a bad time to tell you, but my knife isn’t holographic. I forgot to switch it out before we started.”

He continued his slow, steady, menacing walk towards me. Was he a simulation, too?

“Chakotay!” I snapped, skirting sideways around the edge of the room.

Still no response.

That’s when I began to panic. If I went any further, I wouldn’t be able to watch the corridor. I pressed my back against the bulkhead, just to assure myself it was there, then stepped forward again so that I would have space to throw my knife. “Please, Chakotay,” I begged. “Please, don’t make me hurt you. Please. Are you real?”

He was getting too close. I needed to make a decision, or I was done. On his own, Chakotay was a hard opponent to grapple with; half-assimilated, I wouldn’t stand a chance. Gritting my teeth, I threw the knife at his head. It grazed his left ear, whizzed past him, and stuck in a bulkhead across the room.

A moment later, his arm was against my throat.

Then, the program ended.

As I watched, the Chakotay in front of me vanished, along with the entire rest of the simulation. When the Borg bulkheads were gone, my knife dropped with a metallic _clang_ to the deck.

The holodeck doors opened, and an unharmed Chakotay walked in, pausing to pick up my knife as he approached me.

Terror curled through my body, squeezing my lungs and tickling my muscles. I raised my hands and took several steps back. 

Chakotay dropped my knife and held up his hands. “It’s alright, Talia. It’s me— Chakotay. The sim wasn’t real. You’re safe.” His eyes were brown and warm. “You’re safe.”

I swallowed, trying to ease the dryness in my throat. Still, I went right back to panting for air, which only made the affliction worse.

Again, Chakotay reached for the knife, watching me carefully as he did. That time, I stood my ground. Flipping the weapon so the handle was towards me, he stood and held it out like an offering.

All at once, my dread was replaced entirely with white-hot anger. “You motherfucker!” I screamed. “What the fuck were you thinking! I could have killed you! I could have fucking killed you!”

“It was a hologram,” he reminded me calmly. “You couldn’t have hurt me.”

“But I didn’t know that! What the fuck are you trying to get me to do? Do you want to see if I would kill you? Do you understand what that would do to me? I can’t—“ I tried to inhale, but I couldn’t seem to get enough oxygen. “I can’t—“

Then, I was gasping for air.

Chakotay dropped the knife and rushed to me, grasping my hands, and guiding me to my knees. He cupped his hands around mine and lifted them to my face, covering my nose and mouth. “Breathe,” he commanded, “slowly. Breathe into your belly. Breathe.”

Soon, I started to regain control. Once he was confident that I could breathe normally, Chakotay released my hands and helped me stand. “Are you okay?”

I nodded, still feeling shaky but relieved at how quickly the overwhelming emotions seemed to bleed away. “I’m okay.”

A little touch of lightness began to creep into his face. “I’m not gonna live this one down for a while, am I?”

A joke. He was trying to make a joke. Some part of my mind wanted to scream at him, while another said that I should laugh it off. I didn’t know what to do, and after the breathing exercise, the only feeling I could really hold onto with any surety was exhaustion. So, I simply stared at him.

The smile faded from Chakotay’s face. Clearing his throat, he stooped down to pick up my knife and studied it closely. “All these years,” he murmured, swiping his thumb across the small green gem embedded in the handle. “All these years, and that’s the first time I’ve ever seen you miss.”

“You should see me practice,” I said, dragging myself past his stupid joke and forcing a small smile. He was only trying to help. “It’s funny, actually. Marnah was always a bit superstitious about that knife, and I never took her seriously. But, I can have an off day, miss every single throw I make with holographic blades, then pick up that _tagh_ and stick it right where I want to on the first try.” I shrugged. “Maybe it’s blessed.”

He offered the weapon back to me. “Then why did you miss today?”

I took the knife and turned it over in my hands. “Because I didn’t want to hit you.”

He smiled and settled a hand on my shoulder. “Well, as much as I appreciate that, I’m still gonna have to fail you today.”

“Yeah,” I mumbled, hanging my head. “I know.”

* * *

Triangulating a signal in the nebula turned out to be an even taller order than we had predicted.

When our ships arrived at the nebula, Captain Janeway ordered an all-stop so we could take some sensor readings and figure out what exactly we were up against. It turned out to be protostellar— a cloud of gasses surrounding a young and still-forming star. Matter within the nebula, as with all protostellar nebulas, was in a high degree of flux, which explained why the scout ship hadn’t been able to get a precise fix on the source of the signal.

“Com systems will work just fine in the nebula,” I informed both sets of senior officers in a special meeting, “which is why we can pick up the signal just fine. But sensors won’t fare so well. Our ships will have to stay within a quarter-lightyear of each other in order to maintain a telemetry link.”

“That’s going to make triangulating the source of that signal a really slow process,” Harry said. “We won’t have time to search the entire nebula before the gasses erode our shields, and if we do find something, we won’t be able to get a clear reading until we’re both practically on top of it.”

“I don’t like the sound of that,” Ransom said. “If it’s a Borg ship, we’ll be toast.”

“A ship couldn’t have survived in that nebula for more than seventy-two hours,” Janeway pointed out, “which tells me that it must be some kind of a probe.”

“Or the Borg version of a blackbox,” Chakotay added.

“Leaving technology lying around for anyone to find?” Burke said. “That doesn’t sound like something the Borg would do.”

“Could it be a trap?” Tom asked.

I shook my head. “That’s not the Borg’s way. They must have determined that it wasn’t worth the effort to recover. It hasn’t self-destructed, which means that it is no longer linked into the hive mind. If they haven’t sent anyone to recover it, chances are it’s not anything of significant value.”

“To the Borg, perhaps,” Tuvok said. “However, it may yet prove valuable to us.”

“I agree,” said Janeway. “We need to figure out a way to boost our sensor range so we can track it down and drag it out in less than seventy-two hours.”

“What about the _Flyer_?” Harry asked.

Janeway cocked her head. “I beg your pardon?”

Harry’s cheeks flushed slightly. “Sorry, Captain. I mean our new shuttle. We’ve been unofficially calling her the _Delta Flyer_ ; I guess I just got used to it.”

“Is it ready for flight?” Chakotay asked.

“It is,” Janeway said before Harry could answer. “Lieutenant Paris informed me just this morning.”

“The vessel has yet to be properly tested,” Tuvok pointed out.

“She’ll fly,” Tom said.

“How would using the _Delta Flyer_ help us inside the nebula?” Burke asked.

“We could use her as a sensor relay between _Equinox_ and _Voyager_ ,” Harry said. “It would double our search area and speed up the process of triangulating the Borg signal in the nebula.”

Janeway gave Harry a nod. “Good thinking, Lieutenant. Commander—“ She turned to Chakotay. “—it looks like you’ll be the first to pilot our new shuttle. I want you and Miss Eelo running relay for this mission.”

“With all due respect, Captain,” Tom said, “the _Flyer’s_ going to be in a delicate position. She’ll need our best pilot at the helm.”

The captain smiled. “I know you’re eager to test out your new shuttle, Mister Paris, but I need you here. Chakotay will pilot the _Delta Flyer_ , and Talia will coordinate _Voyager’s_ and _Equinox’s_ telemetry.”

“Does this mean that we’re naming our shuttle _Delta Flyer_?” Harry asked.

Janeway’s gaze shifted to Harry. “Yes, Lieutenant. I think that is a very fitting name.”

He smiled.

“I want everyone ready to go within the hour,” the captain said. “Let’s do it.”

* * *

_Delta Flyer_ flew more smoothly than any other shuttle I had been in. It took all of my willpower to keep from begging Chakotay to switch places with me. Syncing sensor telemetry was my job on the mission, not piloting. I was _Voyager’s_ Chief Science Officer; it was why the captain assigned me.

Still, I couldn’t help but feel more than a little green with envy.

“I can just about hear you plotting a mutiny back there,” Chakotay quipped soon after we disembarked. “If you behave, I might let you fly us back.”

I smiled. “Well, in that case, maybe I won’t shoot you in the back just yet.”

“Yet?”

“You heard me.”

He chuckled. “Does this mean I’m forgiven for yesterday?”

I glanced at him, considering his question and the way he had asked it. Did he really feel that bad about the sim?

When I didn’t respond, he stopped what he was doing and looked at me. “If I could say I’m sorry, I would. But I had to test you.”

“I know.”

“I am sorry about how I responded afterwards. I could have been more supportive.”

“Don’t sweat it, Tay.”

He raised his eyebrows. “Really?”

“I’ll survive. I always do.” Just then, my console chirped. I glanced down to read the transmission. “Telemetry link is secure. Both ships report ready.”

With one last lingering look, Chakotay turned back towards his console. “Then let’s get started. Engaging impulse engines.”

Just like that, we were entering the nebula.

At that distance from the star, its gasses appeared to be a deep, sapphire blue. Although particle movements couldn’t be observed with the naked eye, the whole thing seemed to whirl inward. It was like stepping inside a twilight blizzard that had been frozen in time— beautiful and dangerous. In the space of seventy-two hours, those gasses and particles would become deadly, but in that moment everything was utterly still.

I had to tear my eyes away from the sight, forcing myself to focus on work. “Telemetry link is stable. _Voyager_ and _Equinox_ are beginning scans.”

“Acknowledged. Maintaining course and speed.”

For the next several hours, that was how the mission went— keeping a steady pace as we searched for the source of the signal. It seemed to ripple through the nebula’s matter like water disturbed by a breeze. After a time, we were able to determine a direction, at least; still, the source eluded us.

Then, it was right on top of us.

We saw them before we actually sensed them. The cube was massive, as Borg cubes tended to be. Dim shafts of green light emanated from the spaces between exposed conduits that twisted along the outer hull. Several sections seemed to have blown out from the inside.

Still, someone was home. A moment after we saw them, the cube opened fire, shaking the _Flyer_ fiercely.

“I’ve lost both telemetry links!” I shouted as I quickly typed in a command to reorient my station for battle. “How the hell has that thing survived here all this time?”

“I don’t know,” Chakotay said, “but I can’t shake them.”

Another volley hit the shuttle. “Warp engines are offline,” I said, though it wasn’t as if we had any use for those inside the nebula. That was when it hit me. “They’re not trying to destroy us. They want to capture us in tact.”

“Not if I can help it. Have you got tactical up?”

“Yes, sir. Without the neuroelectric field from the hive mind, they can’t regenerate the damaged parts of their ship. Their power output is fluctuating.”

“Good, then we’re still in the game. I’m gonna bring us about, and I want you to start targeting their propulsion systems.”

“Aye, sir.” One by one, I shot out the cube’s multiple engines as Chakotay flew past them— spread out as they were so as to prevent a total system collapse. Yet within minutes, Chakotay and I had managed just that. “Their propulsion systems are offline,” I reported.

It had been way too easy to disable that cube, but then again, they hadn’t been in good shape to begin with.

“Engaging full impul—“

The shuttle jolted as the cube hit us with a powerful shot of phaser fire. A bright red notification overtook several of my tactical controls. “Weapons are down!”

With a jerk, the cube caught us in a tractor beam. An eerie humming reverberated through the hull as the beam guided us into the round, open maw of their ship. Although we tried every trick we knew for escaping such things, we couldn’t get away.

Just like that, our lives were over. Just like that, the Borg had won.

But somewhere in the midst of my hazy, shocked mind arose a thought. “They haven’t hailed us.”

“What?”

“The Borg always announce their plans to their victims in an audio transmission. We have gotten no such com.”

Chakotay gaped at me, looking as if he couldn’t decide whether to chastise me for bringing up something so trivial or to take my observation as a stroke of brilliant insight. The docking clamps were locking onto the shuttle, and a hissing sound came through the air vents. Before Chakotay ever had a chance to decide on his response to me, my head seemed to transform into a hundred-kilo stone.

Then, there was nothing.


	13. Who We Are

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Source Episode: VOY 6x16 Collective 
> 
> CW: Injury, gore, and death.

“Talia. Talia! Wake up!”

I tried to cling to my warm, thick blanket of unconsciousness for as long as I could, but it was hard to do when someone kept shaking me and yelling. Although I couldn’t put my finger on why, I knew that I most definitely did not want to face whatever existed outside of me. Maybe if I ignored the shaking and yelling, it would go away and I could sleep.

“Commander Eelo!” The person sighed. “Damnit, Talia, don’t make me slap you.”

I groaned.

A large hand gripped mine. Apparently, I had reached for him.

Him, who?

Chakotay. Yes, that was it. I was with Chakotay. But, where? And why did my head feel so strange and heavy?

“Talia, open your eyes.”

It was hard, but I did as he asked. Luckily, the room was only lit with a dim, green light that was easy on the eyes, and Chakotay’s head was blocking anything from shining directly onto my face. I couldn’t make out his features, but it was definitely him.

Where the hell were we?

I sat up, then instantly regretted it. My stomach twisted, forcing everything up my throat and into my mouth. I flipped onto my hands and knees, vomiting on the grated floor. Evidently, the room had been built with just that sort of reaction in mind, because there was a catch below the grate that flowed with water to rinse everything away.

Chakotay pulled my hair back from my face; my ponytail was a frizzy mess and a lot of hair had slipped out of it. He wrapped an arm around my waist and guided me slowly to my feet. I was so dizzy that I damn near fell over, but Chakotay held me steady. Once I was on my feet, he walked me to a corner of the room where a faucet protruded from the wall. He twisted the handle, bringing forth a steady stream of water.

I cupped my shaking hands under the stream and brought the sweet, cool liquid to my lips. After rinsing the taste of bile away, I fell to my knees and let the water flow directly into my mouth, drinking gratefully. It wasn’t until I turned the water off, sat back against the wall, and took a good look around that I remembered what had happened to us.

“The cube,” I whispered, scrambling to my feet. The chamber we were in was odd— very odd. Borg drones didn’t need to drink water, nor did they have any use for a wastewater system; their implants took care of all such needs.

Then, my eyes fell upon a half-assimilated corpse lying on a slab in the other corner, and I knew where we were. “An assimilation chamber.”

Chakotay nodded. “That was my suspicion.”

I frowned. “But we haven’t been assimilated yet. Why?”

“I don’t know.”

“How long have you been awake?”

“Not much longer than you. Just long enough to throw up, drag myself to the water faucet, and then wake you up.”

I circled the chamber slowly, running my fingertips across the conduit-covered walls. As I neared the opening to a corridor, I could hear the faint hum of a force field. “Have you seen any drones pass by?”

“No, but it’s not like we have a clear view from here.”

“Heard any footsteps?”

“None.”

I turned to face him. “Drones don’t walk softly. If someone passed by, you’d know. Something is wrong here. I think this cube might be understaffed.”

“Can you hack their system without a tricorder?”

I shook my head. “No, and it doesn’t look like they put any interface panels in this room. But if there are only a few drones on board, and they’re all disconnected from the hive mind, maybe— _maybe_ — we can actually talk to them.”

* * *

We waited for a very long time, but no one came to assimilate us. Not even a single drone seemed to pass within hearing range of the assimilation chamber. How many hours had it been?

Finally, we heard footsteps.

Two underdeveloped male drones were escorting Captain Ransom to see us. The drones both looked like adolescents who had emerged from their maturation chambers too early. Not all of their implants had developed, leaving odd gaps in the exoplating along their chests, legs, and arms.

One boy was taller and more muscular than the other, making him much more imposing. By the corded ridges framing his face and neck, and the upside-down droplet of cartilage between his eyes, I knew at a glance that he was Kardasi.

The other boy was slightly shorter and more reserved in his mannerisms. He was distinguished by a sharp ridge that ran along the bridge of his nose and faded into what would have once been his hairline. I didn’t recognize his species as one we had encountered in our journey, but the abundance of gaps in his exoplating suggested that he was a more recent victim of assimilation. Out of the two, he was the weaker link, the one who had the most humanity left in him. If anyone could be persuaded to sympathize with us, it would be him.

“See?” the Kardasi drone snapped at Ransom. “The hostages are unharmed, just as I told you.”

“I’d like to examine them,” Ransom said.

“That was not part of the agreement.”

Ransom grunted, then looked at us. “Are you hurt?”

“Nothing serious,” Chakotay said.

I eyed the drones.

“Don’t let their appearance fool you, Commander Eelo,” Ransom said. “They are in control of this vessel and all of its armaments.”

“How many are there?”

“Enough!” shouted the Kardasi drone. Clearly, he was the administrator of the cube. “You’ve seen the hostages. Now give us the deflector.”

“I never said that I would give you our deflector,” Ransom insisted. “I said I would consider your offer if you gave me reassurance that my people were unharmed. I need to return to my ship and try to make contact with the other vessel in our fleet. Its captain is my superior officer; I cannot make this trade without her.”

The Kardasi grabbed Ransom by the front of his shirt and shoved him, hard, against a bulkhead, barring his other arm against Ransom’s throat. “No! We will not allow you to call reinforcements. Give us the deflector now!”

“We need more time. The deflector array is essential to our—“

“No more excuses! No more deceptions! The deflector!”

Ransom grit his teeth, straining to breathe despite the drone’s arm pressing against his throat. “No.”

“Second, inject him.”

The other drone seemed to hesitate for a brief moment before setting his face with a determined expression. In two strides, he walked over and plunged his assimilation tubules into Ransom’s jugular. Ransom yowled, his cry echoing through the corridor and adjacent caverns. The drone recoiled, yanking his tubules out of Ransom’s neck as if the action had burned him, and stepped back.

“Release the containment field,” the Kardasi drone demanded.

The boy inserted his tubules into an interface panel on their side of the threshold, and the forcefield deactivated. The Kardasi drone shoved Ransom into the chamber with us, leaving Chakotay and I scrambling to catch Ransom while the forcefield went back up. Without another word, both boys turned around and left.

“Hey!” I screamed after them, transferring Ransom’s weight to Chakotay and darting towards the corridor. “Hey, wait! I need to talk to you!”

No response.

“Comply!”

But their footsteps had already faded away.

“Talia,” Chakotay called. “I need your help.”

I sighed and turned back to my comrades, reaching out to retake some of Ransom’s weight. The wound in his neck was bleeding, which was odd— usually, nanoprobes formed an instant clot at the site of injection and encouraged rapid cellular regeneration, leaving no mess behind. The vessels in his skin were turning grey, but no implants were forming.

Slowly, Chakotay and I lowered Ransom to the floor, propping him up against a bulkhead. We stripped off his uniform jacket and the high-collared shirt beneath it, leaving only his sleeveless undershirt in place.

The wound on his neck wasn’t bleeding profusely, but it still concerned me. I ripped a section of his shirt and pressed it against his neck to staunch the flow of blood. “That drone didn’t want to assimilate you.”

“How... do you know?” Ransom asked, pausing in between words to gasp for air.

“He hesitated, and when you screamed, he pulled back. If I could just talk to him—“

“Good luck... with that. The other drone... the Cardi... he calls himself... First. Keeps them all... on a tight leash.”

“He’s the admin drone,” I said.

“How many are there?” Chakotay asked.

“Five.” Ransom grunted as he shifted a bit, trying to get more comfortable. “The other three... are younger. Two twin boys... and a girl. Different species. All other drones... dead.”

“What happened to them?” I asked.

“Didn’t know... maturation chambers... malfunctioned...”

“They emerged early,” I said.

Ransom nodded.

“What did First want the deflector dish for?” Chakotay asked.

“Didn’t say. Whatever it is... the deflector on your shuttle... won’t cut it.”

“I wonder if they can modify it to boost their com signal,” I mused, “or even relink with the hive mind.”

“Regardless,” Chakotay said, “it’s not something we can afford to give them. Without it, _Equinox_ will be dead in the water, and it will attract some company that we are not ready to face yet.”

“I had to keep... them talking,” Ransom said. “Buy time. I don’t know... where the hell... _Voyager_ is.”

“They’ll find us and get us out of here,” I assured him.

Ransom dropped his head against the wall and closed his eyes. “Yeah... I know.”

His skin seemed to be yellowing, but it was hard to tell in the Borg-green lighting, and he was still panting as he drifted off to sleep. It wasn’t at all the way I had imagined assimilation would look, even in its early stages. Sure, the drone hadn’t intended to actually assimilate Ransom, but the symptoms should be similar. What were those nanoprobes doing to him? Why were there still two holes in his neck?

And why did that boy-drone act like injecting Ransom was painful for him?

Lifting the fabric from Ransom’s neck, I examined the wound. The blood was beginning to clot, and the fluid coming out was mostly plasma, but the nanoprobes didn’t seem to be doing much for him. I pressed the fabric down again.

“Tay,” I murmured, handing him Ransom’s shirt, “I need a fresh swath for the wound and a strip to tie it in place. Please.”

He nodded and started carefully ripping into the shirt.

“It should be healing,” I said. “The nanoprobes should be regenerating the cells around the injection site.”

“I guess assimilation isn’t as straightforward as adult drones make it look.”

* * *

There was no way to gauge the passage of time inside that little cell of horrors. Our captors never came back to check on us, and we had nothing at all to eat. We felt confident that at least a day had passed since Chakotay and I were captured, meaning that time was running out for _Voyager_ to find us. 

Chakotay and I searched high and low for anything in the room that we could use to escape, or at least get someone’s attention, but we came up empty. The chamber had been designed with resistant prisoners in mind. All we could do was sit there and wait for the clock to run out.

Ransom had even less time. After those first few restless hours of sleep, he had learned how to control his breathing. Still, he couldn’t seem to get enough oxygen, which left him in a constant state of exhaustion. We had helped him to lay down— his jacket balled beneath his head as a pillow— but he didn’t have the strength to move from his spot. All he could do was turn over every so often. Even more worrisome was that his skin had turned definitively yellow, along with the whites of his eyes. If he didn’t get help soon, he was going to die.

“Still got that fancy knife of yours?” he asked me.

I nodded.

“Then there’s one more play we can make.”

“We’re listening,” Chakotay said.

“You need to kill me.”

“What?” I nearly shouted.

“You can’t be serious,” Chakotay said.

“I’m very serious,” Ransom insisted. “The drones don’t know this, but Max is keeping an eye on our lifesigns. No doubt that Cardi has used my injury to pressure Max on the issue of the deflector dish, but Max won’t budge until he hears from me or Captain Janeway... or until he loses my lifesign.”

“What would he do if you died?”

“He’s a good kid, good officer, but he gets brash and impulsive when he’s worked up. My guess? He’ll get trigger-happy. This thing will come to blows.“

“The drones will kill us,” I said.

“They might,” Ransom agreed, “but you’ll get your chance to talk to them before they do. Maybe you can convince them to make friends.”

“I’m not sure that a shoot-out is a good idea,” Chakotay warned. “The cube could destroy _Equinox_.”

“Max’ll run before that,” Ransom said. “But even if he runs, the weapons-fire will give _Voyager’s_ sensors something more solid to trace. The cube’s projecting a dispersal field around their ship. The damn thing is impossible to find until you trip over it, and it’s probably masking _Equinox’s_ signature just by proximity. But weapons mucking up the chemicals and matter in the nebula... that’s a different story.”

I looked away and began to pace the length of the chamber. It was smart, provoking Max and the cube to make a scene for _Voyager_ to find. Still, I shook my head. “No. I won’t do it.”

“It’s the only way,” Ransom insisted.

“No! It’s not. There’s something else, we just have to find it.”

“You’ve looked. You and the commander searched this room forwards and backwards. I know you did, ‘cuz you kept interrupting my fucking sleep. There’s nothing here.”

“So you want me to kill you?”

“I’m dying anyway. It’s slow going. I’d rather get it over with.”

“You’re not dead yet, which means there’s a chance to save you.”

“Not if _Voyager_ doesn’t find us soon.”

I looked to Chakotay for help, but his face was full of resignation. “What, no comment?” I challenged.

He shrugged. “He’s got a point. It’s either that or keep waiting.”

I scoffed, throwing up my hands. “I can’t fucking believe this. We don’t even know if anything will come from this batshit idea of yours. We don’t know if Burke will open fire, and we don’t know what will happen if he does. Are we really going to trade an officer’s life for a gamble?”

“What the hell happened to you?” Ransom snapped.

I frowned, pausing just beside him. “What are you talking about?”

“You heard me. You used to be somethin’ else. What happened to the ex-Maquis acting captain who chased off a Hirogen hunting party and threatened to drag me back to Janeway in a tractor beam, feeding me some bullshit about an obscure regulation that didn’t even apply?”

I couldn’t help but smile a little. All that time, I’d always wondered if he knew I was bluffing.

“What happened to the woman who pulled together her Maquis rebels, stole my ship right out from under me, and ran off to fight a war against a monster time-ship so she could rescue her comrades, knowing what Starfleet would do if they ever found out?”

I looked at the floor.

Ransom grabbed my ankle, demanding my attention. “What happened to the woman who insisted on completing a heist on a Borg sphere despite the fact that she was literally out of her goddamn mind? The woman who held herself together until it was over, who pulled off that mission and staged a small mutiny against me when I wanted to cut losses and run?”

“I was right,” I hissed, yanking my leg away. “Annika was alive. I was right not to give up on her, and I’m right not to give up on you now.”

He studied me closely, the blue of his irises dulled by the jaundice-yellow surrounding them. “No. I remember the look you had then. Same look I saw the first day I met you. That’s not the look in your eyes now. You’re lost. Scared shitless. Anything but confident. You used to jump at the chance for a good calculated risk, but you don’t have the guts anymore to do what needs to be done.”

“I will not murder one of my own!” I shouted.

He laughed, which turned into a fit of coughing. “You’re not murdering me. Those adolescent Borg murdered me. You’re just putting an end to my needless suffering. Death is part of life, Eelo, and there’s gonna be a lot more death to come. You might as well get used to it.”

Tears started to form in my eyes. I thought of the sim and how I couldn’t bear the prospect of harming Chakotay. If it had all been real, and he really had been assimilated, would I have let him take me? Certainly, he would rather I kill him in such a situation.

Were the roles reversed, would Chakotay or Ransom be able to kill me?

Ransom wasn’t assimilated, but he was just about dead, and chances weren’t good for his survival even if I rejected his request. _Voyager_ had yet to show up, _Equinox_ was in a stand-off they couldn’t resolve alone, and both ships were running out of time before the nebula’s gasses wore down their shields. None of the Borg survivors had checked on us since leaving Ransom to die. We needed to get everyone’s attention.

I glanced at Chakotay, who gave me a sympathetic look. “I’m leaving it up to you, Talia. It’s your _tagh_.”

So Chakotay agreed with Ransom, but he wasn’t going to order me to kill the man. I was the one who would have to live with it, so it needed to be my call.

“We’ll give it a couple more hours,” I said. “If no one shows up soon and you start really going downhill, I’ll do it. But not yet.”

“Fair enough,” Ransom said. “In that case, go away. I’m going to take a nap.”

I took a seat on the floor beside Chakotay, who murmured, “You should rest, too.”

“We’re all exhausted,” I argued.

“Seriously. Get some sleep. I’ll wake you if anything happens.”

* * *

I woke up to Ransom screaming in agony. The sound reverberated off the walls and seemed to make the entire chamber tremble, but still no one came. Chakotay propped Ransom in a halfway-sitting position against himself, then looked at me. Seeing that I was awake, he gave a solemn shake of his head.

When I knelt down on Ransom’s other side, he grabbed my wrist so tight I thought he might break it. “Please,” he begged through gritted teeth. His face was unnaturally yellow, as if it was the only pigment left in his skin, and he was covered in sweat and tears. Blood trickled from one side of his mouth. “Please.”

“Okay,” I said, pulling out my knife.

His grip on my wrist tightened. “You make sure... make sure my people get home.”

Tears welled up in my eyes. “I will, Captain.”

“Rudy,” he whispered hoarsely.

I smiled at him, wriggling my wrist to loosen his grip and slipping my hand into his. With my other hand, I lowered the blade into position. “We will get your people home, Rudy. I promise.”

More tears flooded his eyes, and he nodded. He was ready.

Sucking in a deep breath, I forced the blade up between his ribs, penetrating his heart. His eyes went wide and his grip tightened painfully. Still, I held onto his hand, even as I jerked the knife to a different angle and pulled it back out.

Blood spewed from the wound, covering my hands and soaking my uniform. In seconds, Ransom was unconscious. His hand went limp, and his head flopped onto Chakotay’s shoulder. His breathing was rapid and laborious until, within a minute, it simply stopped. Chakotay gently lowered Ransom’s head and torso to the floor, and I finally let go of his hand.

Then, I just stared at the knife. I wasn’t sure what to do next. I needed to clean my blade, but with what? It seemed tasteless to wipe it on Ransom’s clothes, and I sure as hell didn’t want to wipe it on mine. I reminded myself that my clothes were already covered in his blood, but I still couldn’t bear to add more blood to them. Part of my mind wanted to panic, but the rest of me simply didn’t have the energy for it.

“Talia,” Chakotay said.

I blinked and looked up at him. He was all blurry, and I realized that I must have been crying.

He held out a hand. “Let me clean your knife.”

I blinked several more times, forcing the tears from my eyes so I could see, and gave him the knife. He stood and disappeared from my line of sight, while I simply stared down at my hands. They were so very red. I couldn’t even see my own skin anymore. All I could see was Ransom’s blood.

Across the room, water splashed into the catch below the grate. I thought of that initial spurt of blood that had issued from Ransom’s heart, rushing out like water from that faucet before slowing to a steady stream. The faucet turned off after a few seconds, but Ransom’s blood was still dripping into the catch.

When Chakotay returned, he threaded his arms through mine, pulled me to my feet, and guided me away from the place where Ransom lay— the place where I had killed him. Chakotay led me to the faucet so he could wash my hands, and he dried them with his own jacket. Then, he sheathed my knife, snapped it safely into place, and cleared his throat. “If, uh... There’s really no way to say this that isn’t awkward, but if you give me your uniform, I’ll rinse it for you.”

Without a word, I stripped off my jacket and handed it to him.

He plucked the combadge from the front and pressed it to the proper spot on my shirt, then proceeded to rinse the blood off my jacket beneath the stream of water. When it was done, he draped it across a horizontal section of conduit. “Do you want me to rinse your pants?”

Did I? How soon would Burke decide to attack? What if the drones came back and found me in my boxers? Most of the blood had landed on my jacket. Was it worth losing my pants to get clean of what I had done?

Chakotay grabbed my arms and gave me a firm shake. “Talia, look at me.”

My eyes found his before my mind could even think to tell them where to look.

“You did the right thing. He isn’t suffering anymore.”

“He isn’t anything anymore,” I murmured.

“You don’t know that.”

Anger coursed through me, reuniting my mind and body. “Neither do you. That’s the problem, isn’t it? Nobody knows if anything comes after—“ A lump jumped into my throat, and I couldn’t finish the sentence.

“I know he’s a hero who sacrificed himself to give us a chance at survival. That’s not nothing.”

Before I could respond, the cube jolted. A pulsating sound echoed through the hull, and I knew it had to be phaser fire. The plan worked. Burke had lost Ransom’s lifesign and started shooting.

We got their attention.

The power flickered, dropping us briefly into darkness before being restored. Chakotay and I looked at each other. “The force field,” he said.

With a sharp nod, I followed him to the chamber’s only exit. We stood on either side of the threshold, clinging to nearby conduits for balance and inclining our ears as close to the field as we dared. When another volley made the power flicker again, and the hum of the force field died out, we both bolted from the room.

It was a long way to the cube’s maturation center, but we made good time. The battle occupied our captors’ full attention, giving us an opportunity to take action. Silently, we slipped into the room where five Borg children were busy trying to use a damaged cube to battle a fully-armed starship.

I pulled out my knife, gesturing towards the place where the Kardasi drone stood barking orders.

Chakotay nodded, giving me the go-ahead.

I crept around the room, ducking behind conduits and bulkheads and consoles until I reached a good spot to grab the boy. After a volley of weapons-fire from _Equinox_ hit, the boy turned aside to shout an order at a young female drone. The girl gave me a half-second’s pause, because she struck me as familiar, but I couldn’t afford to linger on the thought.

That was my opening.

Charging out from behind an adjacent console, I twisted First’s hand behind his back and curled my arm around his neck, pressing the blade against his throat. “Tell your drones to stand down weapons. We need to talk.”

Just then, a klaxon blared.

Chakotay stepped out from behind a console, both of our phasers in hand. The drones must have left them lying around their makeshift command center— not very efficient. “What does that alarm mean?” he demanded.

“It’s a proximity alert,” said the other boy-drone we had seen earlier— the one referred to as Second. “Your other vessel has entered scanning range, point-two-five lightyears from our position.”

I grinned. “ _Voyager_.”


	14. Pushing the Flock

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Source Episode: VOY 6x16 Collective 
> 
> CW: Brief flashback to a pregnancy loss

The cube shuddered under the force of _Equinox’s_ phasers, but none of the drones paid it any attention. All eyes were on me as I held their administrator at knifepoint.

“Open a com channel to the _Equinox_ ,” Chakotay ordered them.

Still, they watched First for direction.

I pressed the tip of the knife into his skin, opening a small cut and making him flinch. I couldn’t afford to hesitate in killing the boy in my arms. If he fought back, I wouldn’t stand a chance against his Borg-enhanced strength. Ransom’s death filled me with a kind of rage I hadn’t felt since the Maquis, except this time it was more personal. Because of the drone in my arms, Ransom was dead. Because of that damned Kardasi Borg, I had been forced to kill my own comrade.

“Comply,” First told the children.

The female drone tapped buttons on a tactile interface, leading me to guess that her assimilation tubules had not yet been installed when she emerged prematurely from the maturation chamber.

Within seconds, Lieutenant Commander Maxwell Burke’s voice took over the com system. “This is _Equinox_. Are you ready to surrender the hostages?”

“No surrender!” shouted First.

I snorted. Typical Kardasi pride.

“Then why the hail?” Burke asked.

“Commander Burke,” Chakotay said, “this is Commander Chakotay from _Voyager_. We were able to escape from our holding cell during the battle and made our way to the command center. Lieutenant Commander Eelo currently has her knife to the administrative drone’s throat. The cube isn’t ours yet, but we’d appreciate it if you would hold your fire for the time being.”

There was a pause on the line, then, “Acknowledged, sir. Is there anything we can do to help?”

“Sit tight. If the shields drop, I wouldn’t mind a security detachment.”

“No reinforcements!” First shouted.

“You’re hardly in a place to make demands, Kardasi,” I snarled in his ear.

“Understood, sir. Burke out.”

“His designation is First,” Second said.

I glanced up. “What?”

The boy turned his whole body to face me. “You referred to him as ‘Kardasi.’ That is not his designation. His designation is First.”

His matter-of-fact delivery threw me, knocking the edge off my anger.

“‘Kardasi’ is one of the names for his species where we come from,” Chakotay explained as he tinkered with the settings on both phasers. When he finished, he looked up. “These are set to wide beam, meaning that if any of you cause trouble, Lieutenant Commander Eelo and I will shoot you all simultaneously. You won’t have time to adapt. Understand?”

“Yes,” said Second.

Chakotay looked to the other drones. “What about the rest of you? You understand what I just said?”

“We will not defy the will of the Collective,” the girl replied.

“That doesn’t answer my question.”

“It means they agree with Second,” I said, “unless First here chooses to be a problem.”

Chakotay looked at First. “Well? Are you going to cause trouble and make me shoot you all?”

He clenched and relaxed his jaw. “We will not resist.”

“Good,” I said before releasing my hold and shoving him a safe distance away. Sheathing my knife, I walked to Chakotay and reclaimed my phaser.

“Your designation is First,” Chakotay said to the Kardasi. Then, to the other adolescent boy, he said, “And you’re Second.”

“That is correct,” Second said.

Chakotay looked at the other three drones. “What are your designations?”

“I am Third,” said the girl. She gestured to the twins. “They are Fourth and Fifth.”

“My name is Commander Chakotay.” He gestured to me. “This is Lieutenant Commander Eelo.”

“You were the second to emerge from the maturation chambers?” I asked Second.

“No,” he replied, “the first. I could not establish order. I became Second, and he—“ Second tilted his head, indicating the Kardasi drone— “became First.”

“So you’ve established a chain of command,” Chakotay reflected.

“We are Borg,” First said. “We are a Collective.”

“A collective of five underdeveloped drones on a ship normally run by thousands,” I pointed out.

“When we re-establish our link with the Collective,” Second said, “they will come for us.”

“Is that why you want the deflector dish from _Equinox_?” Chakotay asked.

“We will modify it to amplify our neural link,” Third said.

I looked at the girl closely for the first time. As I studied her face— sharply-angled nose ridge similar to Second’s, big grey eyes, pointed chin— I couldn’t help but think of Anelina, the young Brenari girl the Devore had arrested on _Voyager_ for being born a telepath. This girl was the wrong species, but if her eyes were brown instead of Borg-grey and she had a head full of dark curly hair, she could have looked almost the same. She was even the right age, appearing to have barely reached adolescence before being assimilated.

“What do you think, Talia?” Chakotay’s voice cut into my thoughts. He had been saying something to the drones, but I was so focused on the girl that I missed it.

“About what?”

A slight frown crossed his face, but quickly disappeared. “I was just explaining why we can’t give them the deflector, and I suggested that perhaps we could help them make repairs to their own systems instead.”

On the surface, it sounded like a viable idea, especially once _Voyager_ reached us. It would buy time and give us more leverage with the drones as we tried to convince them not to return to the Borg. “Yes, I think we can do that.”

Chakotay turned to First. “What do you say? If we help you repair your technology, will you let us take our shuttle and return to our people safely?”

First glared at him, clearly unhappy with the arrangement. But we were the ones with the guns, so he didn’t have many options. “You have two hours.”

“Hold on,” I said. “Neither Chakotay nor I are engineers, and the engineers on _Equinox_ aren’t familiar with Borg technology. _Voyager_ should make it here in four hours, and there are multiple crew there with the right knowledge and experience to help you. We should wait for them.”

“You will repair the systems by the time your other vessel arrives, or we will assimilate you.”

The limit of two hours had just become four with relatively little negotiation. First was proud like a Kardasi and stubborn like an adolescent of any species, but he was also Borg. Drones were programmed to follow, not lead. He was already bending to our will. How much more would we be able to shape him before he snapped and did to us what he had done to Captain Ransom?

I shook my head. “Uh-uh. That’s not how this works. We have the guns, so we tell you what to do. We could shoot you all and leave now if we wanted. But we’re staying to help because you need our assistance. We disabled your engines, and they won’t regenerate without neuroelectric energy from the hive mind. Whatever you’re doing to protect your ship from the corrosive effects of the nebula won’t last forever, and you can’t escape. You need us. So either accept our terms, or we’re leaving.”

First clenched his jaw.

I pointed my phaser at his chest. “Comply.”

His face twisted into a silent snarl, hating me more each moment, and I couldn’t help but think of how so many of the Bajorans in Marnah’s cell used to perpetuate the idea that it was bred into the Kardasi people to hate us. I tried to dismiss the thought just as I had rejected such ignorant claims in the Maquis— some Kardasi parents may have raised their children to hate us, but it was ludicrous to think they were born that way— yet it niggled at the back of my mind like an itch I couldn’t scratch.

“Does he speak for all of you?” Chakotay asked the other children. “You don’t have to follow him. A collective is supposed to make decisions together, not blindly follow one forceful leader.”

The drones all stared at him blankly.

“What if your problem isn’t something that can be fixed with technology?” I asked them.

“Clarify,” Second said.

“Something happened here that no one understands— something that killed every adult drone on this ship. Clearly, you’re all very smart and capable, yet you haven’t been able to figure out why your maturation chambers malfunctioned or why your neural link was severed. What if it isn’t a problem with your technology? What if it’s something else? We can help you find answers. We used to have a crewman who was Borg, who was liberated from the hive and became an individual. Our doctors on _Voyager_ know a lot about Borg physiology.”

“Used to?” Second repeated. “What happened to your Borg crewman?”

“She left us to join the Unimatrix Zero rebellion,” Chakotay said. “She’s fighting for Borg freedom from the control of the hive mind.”

“Rebellion,” Third said, tilting her head. “An act of violent or open resistance to an established government or ruler.”

“That’s right.”

“We are Borg!” First insisted. “We have no government. No ruler.”

“What about the queen?” Chakotay asked.

Second tilted his head. “Queen?”

“The primary administrative drone for the Collective,” I clarified. “Her designation is Loran.”

First’s face went slack.

“Administrators bring order to chaos,” Second said. “They are necessary for survival.”

“We have administrators, too,” Chakotay said. “Our captains and commanders. They bring us order and help us to survive, but they don’t force us to give up our individuality. We choose to follow our leaders freely. They don’t force us. Believe it or not, you are individuals now, too. You are not linked to one another or to the Collective. You don’t have to follow First if you don’t want to.”

“Commander Chakotay,” one of the twin boys said. Hearing him speak was such a surprise that it pulled my attention almost completely away from observing First.

“Are you an administrator?” the other twin asked.

Chakotay smiled. “Yes, I am. On _Voyager_ , I’m second and Captain Janeway is first.”

“If we choose not to follow our first,” Second said, “will you be our administrator?”

I shifted my gaze to First, expecting him to protest such a suggestion, but his mind seemed to be elsewhere. Why had the mention of Loran’s designation affected him in such a way? The answer came to me as quickly as the question. “You were in Unimatrix Zero.”

He didn’t reply.

“First,” I said firmly as I stepped closer to him. He blinked and pulled his focus back onto me. “Did you know Loran? Were you in Unimatrix Zero?”

For a moment, his expression seemed to register fear. He looked almost childlike, vulnerable. Then, as quickly as it appeared, it vanished behind a mask of hatred. “Do not engage us in irrelevant conversation. Repair our systems.”

“We should allow their other vessel to help us when it arrives,” Second said.

First turned his glare onto Second, but Second did not back down. Looking again at me, First snarled, “When your other vessel arrives, you will request one engineer to assist in repairs, and one doctor to study the inactive drones.” He looked at Chakotay. “If you are able to reactivate our neural link, we will release your shuttle and allow you to return to your ships. If you fail, we will assimilate you.” With that, he crossed to the farthest interface console, decisively ending our conversation.

Chakotay turned to Second. “ _Equinox_ will want to retrieve Captain Ransom’s body as soon as possible. I’d rather not leave him down there until this is all done.”

“We can temporarily deactivate the shielding surrounding that section to allow for transport.”

“I appreciate it,” Chakotay said with a nod. “If you open a com link, I’ll inform _Equinox_ of our agreement.” When Second stepped away to relay the orders to Third, Chakotay held up my tricorder and motioned me closer. “I want you to start gathering data on what happened to this cube,” he murmured. “When _Voyager_ gets here, we can send them data and samples for analysis, but I want to get to the bottom of this as soon as possible.”

“What about their neural link?” I asked, stowing the tricorder in my pocket.

“I’ll look into their systems. It can’t be much different from the tech I worked on at the Unity One colony. I’ll gather as much info as I can, but I’m gonna play it stupid. We need to buy time until _Voyager_ gets here. Whatever it takes, we cannot hand these kids over to the Borg.”

* * *

One by one, I did a thorough examination of each maturation chamber inside the complex. The chambers were similar to regeneration alcoves in size and shape, though they were enclosed for the child’s protection and slightly larger in size than an alcove. They were designed to change with the child, tailoring the space to each drone’s unique developmental needs.

Five units stood open— the units that once contained five drones who were now running the cube. They had indeed malfunctioned spontaneously, just as the drones claimed. Four other units had suffered from malfunctions that were fatal to the developing drones inside. Those units remained closed, and I hoped that I wouldn’t need to open them.

One unit was still active.

Using my tricorder to interface with the Borg computer system, I opened a circular viewport at the center of the unit and gasped at what I saw inside— a fully-developed fetus.

She was curled up in an artificial uterus, floating in amniotic fluid and attached to the cube by the Borg version of an umbilical cord. Like both Second and Third, she had a long ridge along the length of her nose and the middle of her forehead. Whatever species they were must have been the cube’s most recent victims. She hadn’t been there for long.

But something was wrong. My tricorder beeped out a warning, and I frowned at the interface. The maturation chamber was malfunctioning, just not severely enough to shut down its functioning— yet.

Suddenly, I had the sense that I was somewhere else— that I was someone else. I was Tom on a hot desert planet, scanning the swollen belly of my best friend and wishing desperately not to see the horrible truth of what the tricorder was telling me.

The baby was going to die.

The tricorder slipped through my fingers, clattering on the deck. Soon, Chakotay was at my side, but he sounded like an echo from a distant life. I panted. My baby was going to die, and there was nothing I could do about it.

“Talia, look at me,” Chakotay said, his face hovering inches away from mine.

Chakotay.

Not Tom. Chakotay.

The world around me was all green light, dark metal, and sterile recycled air. No desert and no heat. No gravity sinkwell.

No Rojel.

“You’re safe, Talia,” Chakotay reminded me, his hands firm on my shoulders.

As I looked into my friend’s deep brown eyes, I realized that I wasn’t actually helpless. Maybe nothing could have saved my own child, but I still had a chance to save this one.

“She isn’t getting enough oxygen,” I choked out.

“Who isn’t getting enough oxygen?”

“This prenatal drone,” Second said. He was standing between Chakotay and the baby’s maturation chamber. “We have attempted to stabilize the chamber’s oxygen levels, but it is too badly damaged.”

“It is Borg,” First said. “It will adapt.”

“No,” I said, looking towards the console where First stood. “She’ll die unless we get her to _Equinox_.”

Chakotay let his hands fall to his sides, glancing at the baby before bending to retrieve my tricorder.

“They cannot assist us,” First snapped. “You said so yourself. Is that not why we are waiting for your other vessel to arrive?”

“You’re right,” Chakotay said, glancing over my tricorder’s readings. “ _Voyager’s_ crew are more familiar with Borg technology and physiology than anyone on _Equinox_.” He closed the tricorder and looked up at First. “But this child may not live long enough to wait for _Voyager_.”

“The Chief Medical Officer on _Equinox_ is highly competent,” I added. “More than that, she is this child’s best chance at survival right now.”

First glared at me.

“Please let me help her,” I begged. “She is a part of your collective, but she won’t be for much longer.”

For a painfully long moment, First did not reply. Finally, he said, “Second will take her to another location for transport. We will not lower shields around this section.”

I released my breath. “Thank you.”

“There is an incubation pod we can transport the infant into,” Second said.

With a nod, Chakotay handed over my tricorder. “I’ll contact _Equinox_ and let them know.”

* * *

By the time _Voyager_ arrived, Chakotay and I had enough data to know two things. The first was that my suspicion turned out to be correct— Second and Third’s people were the cube’s most recent victims, having been assimilated just days before disaster struck. The second thing we knew was that the Borg had not only received their distress call but sent an encoded response that the surviving drones were unaware of.

The Borg had no intention of salvaging them. Instead, the Collective had issued a command to self-destruct.

I was incredibly glad that Chakotay had opted to play stupid with the drones. None of them would have taken that news well, but least of all First. What would he do if we told him the truth? Would he comply with the Borg’s command? Or would he call us liars and have us assimilated like Captain Ransom?

Chakotay explained what he could openly divulge to Captain Janeway, and she agreed to First’s terms. “I’ll send Dr. Schmullis and Chief Torres over right away.”

“Actually,” I interjected, “I was thinking it might be better to send Crewman Ghemor.”

Chakotay shot me a look.

“Oh?” Janeway said. “And why do you say that?”

I paused to lick my lips, choosing my words carefully. “I need her... _expertise_ on this one.”

The captain was silent for a moment. “Very well. Is there anything else?”

“Not that I know of,” Chakotay said, still glaring at me. “What about you, _Lieutenant_ Commander Eelo?”

“Nothing, sir.”

“Keep us apprised of your progress,” the captain said. “Janeway out.”

Chakotay just about rounded on me as soon as the channel closed, though he kept his voice low. “Do you mind letting me in on your little plan?”

“No plan. Just a hunch.”

“A hunch.”

“That our young admin might respond better to us if he meets another member of his own species. Besides,” I added, lowering my voice to a whisper, “if you and I can manipulate him as well as we have, just imagine what Iliana can do.”

Chakotay pressed his lips together, clearly unhappy with the arrangement. Still, he gave me a slight nod. “Alright. We’ll see what happens.”


	15. We Were Never Welcome

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Source Episode: VOY 6x16 Collective

“ _Kardasika’I_ ”

The sound of Iliana’s exclamation announced the arrival of our help from _Voyager_. I turned to find her gaping at First. It wan’t often that Iliana got caught by surprise. Second and Schmullis stared at her curiously.

‘ _You are Kardasi_ ,’ she had said.

“We are Borg,” First practically spat at her.

“How long have you been Borg?”

First didn’t even wait on his universal translator. “Do not engage us in irrelevant conversation!”

One corner of Iliana’s mouth pulled upward as she sauntered towards him. “You know your father tongue. I bet you were quite young when you were taken. Old enough to speak but too young to understand what it means to love Cardassia.”

“Perhaps the malfunctions began earlier than we believed,” Second said, interjecting awkwardly into the conversation.

Iliana stopped just in front of First, but her green eyes flicked over to the less-assimilated adolescent boy. “How very Borg of you to think a Cardassian remembering his true language is a malfunction. Your Collective can steal as many of our children as it wants. It will never take our identity.”

“That is precisely what the maturation process is meant to do,” Second insisted. “All information relating to experiences of individuality is purged, including spoken language, until only the order of the Collective remains.”

“Charming.”

“First was in the maturation chamber for a significant amount of time. If he is able to recall the language he spoke prior to assimilation, then his chamber must have been malfunctioning for much of that period.”

“That’s not something the Collective would have missed,” I said.

“Annika spoke Federation Standard,” Schmullis pointed out.

He was right. Could it have something to do with Unimatrix Zero?

“She did,” Iliana said, shifting her gaze back to First, “even when she was still a machine.”

First scowled. “We are Borg.”

Iliana ran a finger along the corded ridge lining his jaw. “Yes, you are.”

The annoyance on First’s face gave way to confusion. For a few seconds, he simply stared down at Iliana, seemingly unsure of how to react to her. Then, he grabbed her wrist and pulled her hand away from his face, his expression becoming cold. “You have two hours to reconnect us to the hive mind. If you fail, we will assimilate you.”

“Lucky me,” Iliana deadpanned, wrenching her hand from his grasp.

“Talia,” Chakotay said, “you and Schmullis get going on your study. We need to know what happened here. Ghemor—“ His voice dropped an octave, nearly becoming a growl— “you’re with me.”

* * *

Second escorted Schmullis and me to a corridor where the children had transported some of the dead. In one section alone, there were hundreds of bodies. Although it wasn’t the first time I had seen such a massive collection of dead drones, the silence was somehow more complete. These drones had not been torn limb for limb by a vengeful member of Species 8472. There was no violence here, no carnage left behind. These drones had simply shut themselves down. 

“It never ceases to amaze me how long Borg corpses can resist decay,” Schmullis said as he stooped to scan one of the bodies. The wonder in his voice felt wrong, as if he hadn’t noticed that we were standing in the middle of a nightmare.

I swallowed a lump and cleared my throat, giving a perfunctory “Mm-hmm” but not reaching for my own tricorder. The drones’s eyes were open— all of them grey and unfocused beneath a cloudy film. I had once thought that the eyes of living drones were reminiscent of a dead person, but looking around the corridor made me keenly aware that some spark still burned within the children’s eyes. They were still alive, still sentient, no matter what the Borg had done to them.

They were still people— people who enslaved and murdered other people, but people nonetheless.

The thought of murder called Ransom to mind— his blood on my hands, the agony in his yellow eyes, his challenge to me— and anger bubbled in my chest. His death meant something. It was connected somehow, I just needed to find the link. The agony... the pain...

I turned to Second. “When you injected Captain Ransom with some of your nanoprobes, it looked like you were in pain.”

“Yes, I did experience physical discomfort.”

“Why?”

The boy tilted his head. “I do not know.”

“Commander?” Schmullis asked.

I ignored him, needing to understand why Ransom was dead, needing to find the connection. “Was the injection supposed to kill him?”

“No. It was intended to be threatening in order to motivate Captain Ransom’s second to surrender his vessel’s deflector.”

“Then why is he dead?”

“I do not know.”

I glanced over my shoulder, making eye contact with Schmullis. He nodded, pausing the tricorder’s scan of a dead drone and making his way to me.

“Is this the first time you have experienced discomfort when using your assimilation tubules?” Schmullis asked as he began to scan the boy.

“It is not. Shortly before your arrival, I assisted in an assimilation.”

I frowned. “All drones on this ship came out of maturation chambers. I scanned the units myself. What happened to the person you assimilated?”

“The drone’s lifesigns terminated partway through the procedure.”

“Do you know why?” Schmullis asked.

“We were unable to determine the cause of our failure.“

“It’s the drone in the assimilation chamber, isn’t it?” I said. “Where you held Chakotay and me.”

“That is correct.”

Schmullis closed his tricorder and stowed it in his pocket. “Do you mind if I take a sample of your nanoprobes?”

The look on Second’s face hinted at suspicion, but he didn’t resist. “You may proceed.”

Fetching the hypospray from his medkit, Schmullis slid an empty vial into the device and pressed it to Second’s neck. “Do any of your shipmates seem to have this problem?”

“No.”

Just Second, then. Was he the link?

Schmullis hummed. After drawing the sample, he removed the vial and placed it carefully into a different case he had brought from _Voyager_.He tapped his combadge. “Schmullis to Doctor Kes.”

“Kes here.”

“Please sync the sickbay console to the Portable Medical Analysis Unit. There is a sample I need you to analyze.”

“Right away, Doctor. Kes out.”

Schmullis turned back to the dead drones in the corridor, but I grabbed his arm. “We have to go to the assimilation chamber and scan that drone.”

“That is not the task First designated for us to complete,” Second said. “We are to determine whether there was a biological reason for the malfunctions of this vessel.”

“What if this is the reason?” I argued.

“Clarify.”

I hesitated for a moment, not actually sure of why my question felt so important. Why was I advocating for a return to that horrible place at all?

‘ _What the hell happened to you_?’ Ransom snapped in my mind. ‘ _You used to jump at the chance for a good calculated risk, but you don’t have the guts anymore to do what needs to be done._ ’

“Your species was this cube’s last known target,” I reasoned aloud. “Days after they captured a colony of five hundred people, every adult drone died. Your chamber was the first to malfunction. You’re the only one of the survivors who has problems with nanoprobe injection, and both times it has led to the death of your victim. What if your condition is somehow connected to what happened on this ship?”

“We’ll still need data from several adult drones to confirm your hypothesis,” Schmullis pointed out.

“Fine,” I said. “So we gather what we need here, then go to the assimilation chamber and take a look at that drone.”

“Very well.”

We both looked to Second. “We will proceed with your hypothesis,” the boy said.

While the doctor and I scanned and collected samples, the portable analysis unit worked on Second’s blood sample. By the time Schmullis announced that he was ready to move on, the unit signaled its readiness to accept a new sample. He swapped out the vial with one containing a sample of a pathogen we had found in every dead drone.

“Kes to Dr. Schmullis,” came our other doctor’s gentle voice.

“Schmullis here.”

“I’m sending a report to your tricorder right now. There’s definitely something off about those nanoprobes. When I exposed them to unfamiliar blood cells in a simulation, they destroyed the cells rather than assimilating them.”

“And in doing so, they destroyed their own ability to replicate.”

“That’s right.”

“Fascinating,” Schmullis said as he scrolled through the data on his tricorder. “And there were no abnormalities with the subject’s own blood cells?”

“None that I could find, but I’d like to do a more thorough analysis of the data.”

“Of course. Please inform me if you find anything important. Schmullis out.”

When I glanced at Second, he was staring at his hands with a horrified expression. “I am defective.”

Compassion flooded my body, welling up from some deep, dormant place and making me ache for this boy. Before I could stop myself, I placed a hand on his arm. “You’re not defective. Your nanoprobes may be, but _you_ are not.”

He stared at my hand with an odd expression I couldn’t interpret.

I pulled away. “Sorry. It’s a Bajoran impulse— using touch to offer emotional support. You seemed troubled.”

Second lifted his eyes to mine. “I was not offended by your gesture. I believe there may have been a similar practice in Brunali culture.”

A flicker of hope warmed my chest, soothing the ache. I smiled at Second. “We’ll get to the bottom of this.”

* * *

Returning to the assimilation chamber was like going back to a place after it had endured some kind of disaster. Everything was familiar, yet it felt incredibly distant and unreal. There was an uncanny sense of wrongness, as if any moment I’d realize I was dreaming and things would go back to how they were before.

Nothing would be the way it was before.

My eyes sought out the place where Captain Ransom died, and nausea clutched my insides at the sight of his dried blood staining the grate. For the first time, I was thankful for my lack of food. If there had been anything in my stomach, no doubt I’d have lost it.

It took a few moments for me to realize my companions had moved on. The sound of Schmullis’ tricorder tugged at my awareness. ‘ _Walk away_ ,’ I commanded myself. ‘ _You have a job to do_.’

My uniform jacket was still hanging from the conduit where Chakotay left it. It was dry, no hint of Ransom’s blood left behind. I slipped it on, zipped myself safely inside, and lifted my chin.

At the table upon which the partially-assimilated corpse lay, I followed Schmullis’ lead and retrieved my tricorder. While his device was designed for medical purposes, mine was geared towards collecting other scientific data. The more information we had, the better off we’d be. I scanned the body.

Schmullis hummed. “It appears the patient suffered a rapid loss of red blood cells. She became severely anemic, leading to heart failure.”

“Consistent with what Kes found in the nanoprobes,” I said. “And it would explain Captain Ransom’s symptoms.”

“I’m still not seeing any connection to the sudden deaths of the drones aboard this ship.”

“What if the pathogen that killed them had a different effect on Second? Could it have altered his nanoprobes?”

Schmullis frowned. “Based on Kes’s initial findings, I highly doubt it.”

“She’s still sorting through all our data. She might find something.”

He snapped his tricorder shut. “With all due respect, Commander, we don’t have time. We need to focus our studies on the pathogen.”

“No, this is connected somehow. We just haven’t answered the right questions yet.”

Schmullis crossed his arms. “Such as?”

“Well, for starters—“ I turned to Second. “If your colony was the last stop this ship made before everyone died and you all steered it into a nebula, then where the hell did this woman come from?”

“We were ordered not to discuss this drone.”

I grit my teeth and stepped closer to the boy, willing myself to sound more authoritative than I felt. “She might be part of what went wrong here, and if she is, we need to know everything if we’re going to fix it. So start discussing.”

* * *

“Another survivor?” 

Chakotay’s eyes were wide as I shared, in hushed tones, what I had learned from Second about the corpse in the assimilation chamber.

I nodded. “The only fully-developed drone to do so. She intended to join the Unimatrix Zero rebels, and had even begun to remove her own implants, but First overpowered her. He tried to re-assimilate her, but he couldn’t make her compliant, so he demanded that Second attempt to ‘repair’ her. She became severely anemic and died within twenty-four hours.”

Chakotay glanced over his shoulder, probably checking for eavesdroppers. “Maybe she was liberated along with the rest of Unimatrix Zero and was laying low.”

“Maybe. If First was in Unimatrix Zero with her, it’s possible she was waiting for an opportunity to get them both out.”

“Or she was spying.”

 _Oh._ I hadn’t thought of that. I shook my head. “The point is, I think she survived because she wasn’t connected to the hive mind. The pathogen spread through the whole ship using the local neural link. It was stopped before it infiltrated the central plexus or the maturation chambers, so it didn’t spread to any other Borg ships and it didn’t infect the children. Every active drone on board received a shut-down command, so that’s what they did. At that point, standard Borg procedure would have been for the admin drones to activate the cube’s self-destruct sequence. But they didn’t.”

“They were spaced,” he said.

“What?”

“First claimed they shut down all sections of the ship that were too badly damaged in order to conserve power, but I looked at the activity log myself. Someone shut down the command center manually and vented it before the first maturation chamber opened.”

“It must have been the survivor.”

He nodded. “It looks that way.”

“Is it just me, or does this situation sound a bit too familiar?”

Chakotay frowned. “You think this pathogen is similar to the virus we used to liberate Unimatrix Zero?”

“Maybe. I don’t know. Maybe the survivor planted it on purpose. Maybe she created it. And I still don’t know how Second’s malfunctioning nanoprobes fit into all of this. I just have this feeling in my gut that it’s connected.”

“I think you’re right. In fact, Ghemor came across something you’ll want to see.”

Chakotay led me to a console where Iliana was working. Its innards were strewn around the floor, framing the slender Kardasi woman as she tinkered with some piece of hardware deep within.

“Hello, Eelo,” she said, not looking up from her work. “What can I do for you?”

“I was just telling Talia about that information you found in the logs,” Chakotay murmured.

“I see,” Iliana said. Her eyes flicked to me, the green in them deepened by the ship’s strange lighting. Wiping her greasy hands on a cloth, Iliana stood, stretched her back, and produced a small PADD from one of the pockets in her black jumpsuit. She pressed her thumb to the reader, unlocking it before handing it to me.

It was a collection of information about the cube’s last conquest— activity logs, stolen data, archival information about the colony and the species who lived there. As I read, a story began to emerge about the Borg’s interactions with the Brunali people and how that had led to the latest attack on a small unadvanced colony of survivors.

They were genetics experts. Once, the Brunali had been a proud spacefaring people whose scientific curiosity drew them to the stars— not unlike Terrans. After the Borg decimated their homeworld, the survivors destroyed their advanced technology and decided to live as an agrarian prewarp society. Most likely, they had hoped the Borg would judge them to be of no further value to the Collective and never return.

Two decades later, one of the Brunali colonies had a change of heart. They launched a small ship into their star system— right in front of a transwarp aperture. When the Borg detected the vessel’s warp signature, they snapped it up, traced it back to the colony, and assimilated everyone.

Also included in the files was data about the genetic work that particular colony had been doing. Mostly, it revolved around humanoid genetic modifications that I couldn’t make sense of. It was called _Project Icheb_. Attached was another file, but when I tried to open it, the data was too corrupted to read.

I frowned.

“Confused?” Iliana asked. “Those modifications would create an immuno-compromised person, a child born with heightened susceptibility to infection.”

“On purpose? Why would anyone do that?”

“Funny you should ask. I sent this data to Kes, and she connected it to the pathogen your team found in all those cadavers you’ve been studying. She also found the source.” Iliana tilted her head and flicked her eyes towards the corridor.

I held up two fingers and mouthed, ‘ _Second_?’

She nodded.

“Why didn’t she inform me? Or Schmullis?”

Iliana’s brow rose. “What, so drone-boy could overhear? How do you imagine that would’ve played out, Eelo’chali?”

I glowered.

“I told Kes to send the results directly to my tricorder,” Chakotay said. “If our friends here were to get wind of that information, they’d kill him.”

He was right. I took a breath, trying to clear my head. “Okay. So, what do we do?”

Chakotay opened his mouth to answer, but Third’s voice cut him off as she reported an incoming com signal.

“Identify the source,” First ordered.

“Unknown. It appeares to be a code.”

“What does it say?”

“Unknown,” one of the twins said. “Decryption algorithms do not recognize it.”

“Mind if we take a look?” Chakotay asked. “Lieutenant Commander Eelo and Crewman Ghemor both have experience breaking codes.”

Iliana ticked a brow at First, lifting her chin as a smug smile pulled at her lips.

First didn’t look impressed, but at least he didn’t scowl. “Proceed.”

When Third released the data to our tricorders, I recognized it right away.

Korok.

I exchanged a glance with Chakotay, unsure if it was information we should share with the children. He shook his head.

“It looks like a transponder code,” Iliana said, not having seen Chakotay’s subtle gesture. She stared hard at her tricorder as she made her way to the visual-tactile interface where First and Third stood. Iliana frowned at the readings, then glanced at Chakotay and me. “I think it’s Klingon.”

“Distance?” First asked.

“Twenty light years. They must be boosting the signal to let someone know they’re coming.”

“Who?”

“Us,” Chakotay said, squaring his jaw. “It’s Unimatrix Zero.”

Iliana frowned. She hadn’t been briefed about Korok or our orders to rendezvous with his liberated Borg sphere, and she was clearly not happy at being left out.

First glared at Chakotay. “I said no reinforcements!”

“We didn’t call them.”

In a move so fast I almost didn’t register it, First grabbed Iliana by her thick dark hair, yanked her head back, and plunged his assimilation tubules into her neck. Chakotay and I pulled our phasers, but First was already shouting. “If you discharge your weapon, your crewman will die.”

My finger twitched on the trigger, but we both held our fire. Iliana’s complexion kept its dull pink color, her eyes were still green, and no implants sprouted from her skin. He hadn’t injected her with any nanoprobes. All that kept her from bleeding out were the tubules in her neck.

“These delays are intentional. You tried to deceive us. Give us the deflector now, or you will be assimilated.”

“It won’t help, you know,” Iliana sneered.

“Ghemor,” Chakotay warned.

“They received your distress call, and they answered it with a self-destruct order.”

“Another deception,” First said.

“See for yourself,” Iliana said, glancing at Third. “Data grid four-two-six. Use decryption protocol theta three.”

Third did as Iliana asked without even looking to her admin for approval. After a few tense moments, she turned to First. “She is correct. The transmission is authentic.”

“It is a mistake,” First insisted.

“You’re defective,” Iliana growled. “Weak. The Collective doesn’t want you.”

First tightened his grip on her hair, and Iliana grunted. “We are a collective,” he snarled, leaning down until his face was centimeters from hers. “You are an individual. You are the one who is weak.”

“Perhaps,” she said through gritted teeth. “But I’m much smarter than you are. And I’m not alone.”

First only had time to frown before Third raised an instrument to his cortical implant and deactivated him. Immediately, the admin’s body went limp. His grip on Iliana’s hair loosened, and his tubules automatically retracted. Third shoved his body sideways so he wouldn’t crush Iliana, and he landed on the deck with a sickening thud.

As the tubules withdrew from her neck, Iliana clapped a hand over the wound. Blood slipped through the spaces between her fingers and, as her breathing became rapid, streamed down from her hand despite her best efforts to staunch the flow.

Then, both Iliana and First dissipated.

My mouth dropped open, refusing to make words.

“Mind telling me what the hell just happened?” Chakotay asked.

“I transported them to _Voyager’s_ sickbay,” Third informed us. “They won’t die, and you won’t be assimilated.”

“I’m gonna need a better explanation than that.”

“We’ve met before,” the girl said, “but I had a different face. On Brunal they called me Mezoti, but my real name is Anelina. I am Brenari.”


	16. Cold Wind Whispering

Once Third— who requested we refer to her as Mezoti— released us, everyone transported to _Voyager_. The other children, though hesitant, agreed to stay with us until we rendezvoused with Unimatrix Zero, at which point they would likely join the other liberated drones. Mezoti set the broken cube to self-destruct, and we made our slow way back out of the nebula.

Kes refused to let anyone question Iliana or First until they had fully recovered from the ordeal, so Captain Janeway interviewed Mezoti. Chakotay, Tuvok, and I joined them in the conference room.

“Tell me,” the captain said to the girl, “when did Crewman Ghemor become aware of your true identity?”

“She recognized me when she came aboard our vessel. She triggered the return of my memories.”

Chakotay frowned. “How?”

“She sent a feedback pulse through my interface, then insisted on treating the damage. While she was treating me, she deactivated the neural restructuring that had begun to develop in my cortical implant, which allowed me to access information the maturation process would have destroyed. She told me to act normal, not to say that I remembered anything. She told me that if I was careful and did everything she said, we’d come back to _Voyager_ together.”

“How did you come to be on Brunal?” Tuvok asked.

“Iliana found out that someone on your ship told the Devore about us. She warned our elder and said she might have a way to help us escape after we were captured. Kir asked her to save me.”

“Why?” I asked.

“Because I am a secret-keeper.”

“What is a secret-keeper?” Janeway asked.

“Rarely, Brenari are born with unique genetic traits that cause us to age more slowly than the others. We are called secret-keepers because we collect and preserve stories of our people.”

“Like historians,” Chakotay said.

Mezoti tilted her head. “Historians study and write. We carry memories. Our telepathy is stronger than the average Brenari, and our lifespans are much longer. The ones you knew as my parents, for example, weren’t actually my parents. They were historians. They agreed to pass as my parents so I wouldn’t be taken to an orphan camp, or exposed for what I am and taken somewhere worse.”

I shook my head. “Wait a minute. Are you a child or an adult?”

“That dichotomy does not apply to us. I am not a child, but I haven’t reached physical maturity yet, either.”

“And your real parents?”

“Dead,” she said, her matter-of-fact delivery making my chest squeeze.

“You’re safe with us,” Janeway said. “We can restore your natural features and find a way to get you back to your people. We transmitted your logs to Queen Nessav of the Krenim Commonwealth, and she’s done a great deal to assist your people since then. I’m sure she’ll find a safe place for you to go.”

“She already did. She made contact with your crewman after you left Devore space. Iliana helped the queen find me and provided information on how to alter my appearance. The queen arranged for my placement in the Brunal colony herself. Clearly, it didn’t go well. Besides, returning to my people isn’t my mission.”

“Your mission?”

“Elaborate,” Tuvok said.

Mezoti narrowed her eyes at the captain. “Where is Annika? I want to talk to her.”

“She left us,” Janeway said. “We believe she’s with Unimatrix Zero.”

“Then I’ll go with them when your contact arrives.”

“That is your prerogative. In the meantime, if you wouldn’t mind answering our questions—“

“No,” Mezoti said. “It’s not for you to know. Besides, your minds are too small for the knowledge I carry. It would overwhelm you.”

It was Janeway’s turn to narrow her eyes. “Try us.”

Mezoti set her small jaw and lifted her chin in defiance, her eyes just as cold and hard as the captain’s despite her young appearance. Before much of a staredown could ensue, however, three things happened in rapid succession.

First, bright flashes of light pulled my gaze to the viewport behind Janeway’s head. The nebula’s blue gasses had thinned, allowing for our first glimpses of the star-speckled space beyond. But there were more than stars outside the nebula’s boundaries; several ships were locked in battle.

Borg ships.

Second, the moment _Voyager_ emerged from the nebula, the three nearest cubes turned their weapons on us. The ship shook and lights dimmed into the flashing crimson of red alert.

Third, the com system chirped and Tom’s panicked voice filled the conference room. “Captain to the bridge.”

* * *

“Report,” Janeway barked.

“Twelve Borg ships are engaged in battle around the nebula’s boundary,” Tom said, jogging from the central dais to relieve the junior officer at the con.

“Sensors didn’t detect them until we exited the nebula,” Harry said.

Another volley of phaser fire nearly threw me off-balance as I took my station.

“Shields at twenty-eight percent,” Tuvok said.

“Can we take shelter in the nebula?” Chakotay asked.

Pulling up the internal sensor array, I took a quick look at _Voyager’s_ own systems.

“I wouldn’t recommend it,” Harry said. “Our shields will corrode in minutes. We wouldn’t have time to get far enough from their lines to escape.”

He was right. I turned to Mezoti, who had followed me to the science station. “How did you protect your cube from the nebula’s gasses?”

“This vessel does not have the necessary technology to complete that modification.”

 _Boom_. “Nineteen percent,” Tuvok warned.

“Return fire,” Janeway said. “How soon will our friends be here?”

“We lost contact with them a few minutes ago,” Harry said grimly, “but they were still several days out.”

A notification blinked, pulling my attention back to external sensors. “ _Equinox_ just cloaked. It looks like they’ve gone to warp.”

“Mr. Paris?”

“I’m trying to track their warp trail,” Tom said, “but it’s not very strong. I’m not sure how closely I can follow it.”

“Do the best you can, Lieutenant. Get us out of here, maximum warp.”

Two of the three ships fired simultaneously, causing a bone-jarring jolt and blowing out multiple systems. Lights flickered. It was all I could do to keep from smacking my head on the console.

“Direct hit to both nacelles,” Tuvok said. “Shields are at six percent.”

“Warp core is offline!” reported Marla Gilmore from the engineering station.

Another jolt. “They have us in a tractor beam,” Harry said.

My heart sank. Both hands slid from the control panel into my lap. It was over. Even if we shot out their tractor emitter, there were three of them and one of us, and we couldn’t run. We were done for. “You were wrong about me, Rudy,” I whispered. “I’m sorry.”

“We are the Borg,” came the voice of the collective over the com. “You will be assimilated. Resistance is—“

But they were cut off when another of the cubes shot out their tractor beam and captured us for themselves. For several long and precarious moments, _Voyager_ was jerked around from tractor to tractor, the three Borg ships having been joined by four more and none of them seeming to agree on who should keep us. If we were lucky, they’d tear us apart before we reached anyone’s assimilation chamber.

Then, all at once, everything simply stopped. The tractor beams dissipated. The cubes stopped moving, shooting, doing anything against us or one another. My own heart stopped, as well, shock tingling through my body as my hands found their way again to the panel.

“What the hell?” Tom said.

“Report,” Janeway demanded.

“I’m getting hundreds— no thousands— of transporter signatures between the cubes,” I said.

“Any idea what they’re doing?” Chakotay asked.

“There are only two distinct neural frequencies here. One is already growing weaker. The other is coming from the ships sending boarding parties.” I looked at the captain. “I think they’re assimilating the other collective’s forces into their own.”

“And we’re right in the middle,” she said.

“Captain,” Harry interjected, “I’m getting a com signal. It’s being piggy-backed on one of the cube’s sensors. Audio only, but it’s got a Federation signature.”

Janeway stood. “Put it through.”

“ _Voyager_?” A woman’s voice— familiar, but distorted. I couldn’t place it. “ _Voyager_ , do you read?”

“We hear you.”

The woman sighed. “It’s good to hear your voice, Captain.”

“I’m sorry, do we know you?”

“It’s complicated, and I don’t have time to explain. The important thing is that I’m not Borg. Er— well, I am Borg, technically, but I’m not part of the hive mind anymore.”

“How did you come by a Federation encryption algorithm?”

“I’m a Starfleet officer, ma’am. And right now, I’d really appreciate a rescue. My cube is being boarded. The other Borg ships? They’re from a rival collective. They’re assimilating us right now. I’m masking my lifesign, but I don’t have much time.”

“I’m afraid we’re not in much better shape than you are.”

“Yes you are. Unimatrix Zero is on the way.”

Janeway glanced at me. I double-checked the long range sensors and shrugged. Nothing that I could see, but Borg sensors were far superior to ours.

“We’ve been tracking them, Captain,” the woman added, as if sensing our skepticism. “They jumped to transwarp as soon as our ships started firing at each other.”

The captain looked from me to Chakotay, who had also gotten to his feet. “Identify yourself,” she ordered. “I’d like to confirm that you are what you say you are.”

“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”

“I’d like to make that call for myself, if you don’t mind.”

The woman paused, took a shaky breath, then said, “It’s me, Captain. Lyndsay Ballard. Ensign. Service number WF-131-859. Look, I know you think this is a trap, but you have to believe me. I don’t have much time. Please don’t leave me to the Borg.”

I knew Janeway well enough to guess she intended to help, but she had come to depend on Chakotay’s careful skepticism to balance her more intrepid impulses. She held his gaze for just a moment.

He nodded.

“Alright,” she said.

“You’ll have to come closer so my transporter signal doesn’t get noticed. I’m sending you my coordinates.”

“Got it,” Harry confirmed. “It’s the cube closest to the nebula. Thirteen kilometers starboard.”

“That’s gonna take some careful navigating,” Tom warned. “Let’s hope we don’t attract the Borg’s attention.”

“Shadow maneuvers,” I said.

“I beg your pardon?” Janeway asked.

“It’s a trick we used in the Maquis. Reduce power to thrusters, drop life support to five percent, and cut power to all other systems.”

“I’m not sure it’ll work so well on a ship this size,” Chakotay said. “Even at a minimum power output, we can’t hide from their sensors.”

“The Borg are a bit preoccupied at the moment,” Lyndsay said. “I doubt they’ll notice low-level readings.”

“We’ll be there shortly, Ms Ballard. Janeway out.” The hint of a smile tugged at the captain’s lips as she threw a glance my way. “Shadow maneuvers.” She returned to her seat. “Do it.”

Chakotay followed suit.

“Reducing power to thrusters,” Tom said.

“Setting life support at minimum and cutting power to nonessential systems,” Harry said. Everything but emergency systems shut down, plunging us into a darkness broken only by dim shafts of light along the deck and bulkheads.

“Setting a course,” Tom said.

Slowly but surely, we made our way to Lyndsay’s cube on barely-powered thrusters, hoping against hope that she was right— that the Borg were too busy assimilating each other to pay attention to us. It was a gamble all around. If the Borg did notice us, how would they react? What if we got there and they detected Lyndsay’s transport anyway? What if it wasn’t Lyndsay? And even if everything did go well, what then? We still had no engines, no shields, and little hope. Eventually, one collective would consume the other, and they’d all be united against us. We still had weapons; we could hold them off for a few minutes at most, but after that…

“Approaching coordinates,” Tom said.

“All stop,” Janeway ordered. “Harry, bring up communications and inform Miss Ballard that we’re ready.”

“Aye, Captain.”

There was silence on the bridge while Harry relayed the message, and like a fool I relaxed into it. We’d made it without fuss— a small relief, but still I closed my eyes and took a deep breath.

“We have her, Captain.”

As I opened my eyes again, my sensors lit up like the sun. “Transporter signatures! The Borg are returning to their ships. I’m only getting one neural link now.”

“Red alert,” Janeway said. Immediately, _Voyager’s_ systems were back up. “Reroute all available power to the shields. Prepare to take us into the nebula.”

“Captain—“ I started to protest, but my station cut me off with a shrill notification. “Transwarp conduit, two hundred kilometers aft.”

“On screen.”

The viewscreen flickered to life just in time to catch the aperture yawn open and spit out an entire fleet of Borg cubes and spheres.

“Well,” Tom said, “either we’re saved or we’re fucked.”

As if in answer, the cubes surrounding us moved into formation, placing themselves between us and the newcomers. A moment later, they opened fire.

“We’re being hailed,” Harry said. “It’s General Korok.”

Janeway shot to her feet. “Put him through.”

But the voice that greeted us didn’t belong to Korok. It belonged to Annika.

“Captain Janeway,” she said.

“It’s good to hear from you,” the captain said.

“And you, as well. Our scans show your impulse engines are down, which will make this more difficult but not impossible. Once sufficient cover has been established, you will need to come within ten kilometers of General Korok’s vessel. I am sending you the coordinates now. We will tractor you into our holding bay and retreat to our nearest base of operations. Is _Equinox_ with you?”

“No. They fled as soon as we left the nebula.”

“Understood,” Annika said, her voice emotionless. “Our fleet are attempting to draw the Borg away from you. Please be efficient. Hansen out.”

For a while, we watched in silence as both sides of the war battered each other. Try as they might, Korok’s forces couldn’t seem to distract the Borg enough to give us an opening. Without the regenerative capabilities of a neuroelectric field, Unimatrix Zero took a beating.

“Are we really doing this?” I asked. “Leaving _Equinox_ behind?”

“We don’t have much choice in the matter,” Chakotay said.

“I know. I just—“ My throat tightened, making my words a choked whisper. “—I promised him we’d get his people home.”

Chakotay’s face softened, empathy overtaking the hardened features.

“I don’t like it any more than you do,” Janeway said, her expression pained, “but Mister Burke made his choice. We’ll just have to track him down later.” When one of the liberated cubes lost power and began to drift, she turned to Tuvok. “I think it’s time we lent them a hand.”

“Attacking the Borg will be difficult with only thrusters.”

“We won’t be attacking them— at least, not overtly. Arm two photon torpedoes for remote detonation and prepare them for transport. We’re going to sneak them inside the Borg ships.”

Tuvok nodded. Soon enough, he reported that the payloads were ready.

“Mister Kim?”

“On it.”

Seconds ticked by, dragging on longer than they should have. One of the enemy cubes fired a sustained beam at a small liberated sphere, causing our ally to shatter like an old glass light fixture. Combusting antimatter flashed briefly within the glittering shards of bulkhead, then succumbed to the cold, dark vacuum around it. I double-checked my sensors— it wasn’t Korok’s sphere— and let out a shaky breath.

Another nearby ally let loose a barrage of angry green phaser fire, carving a hole in the Borg ship.

“Torpedo is in place,” Harry said.

“Blow it.”

Before the Borg vessel could even begin to repair their damage, an explosion somewhere within the ship caused a cascade failure. It, too, burst into billions of tiny pieces.

“Cut power to all non-essential systems except for transporters and thrusters,” Janeway said. “Tom, get us out of here.”

“Aye, Captain.”

Slowly, _Voyager_ wove through the destruction all around us. The Borg weren’t having an easy day, but Korok’s forces were definitely taking heavier casualties. The battle wasn’t sustainable. We couldn’t win. All we could do was run.

Directly to port, the other enemy ship guarding us took a particularly hard hit from two of Korok’s vessels. Harry jumped at the opportunity, planting the second torpedo somewhere deep within its twisted bulkheads. The explosion didn’t set off a cascade reaction, but it did disable the vessel enough to knock out its power. The green lights seeping from within its bare frame blinked and were snuffed out.

Still, I couldn’t help but feel the eyes of ten thousand drones as we passed by the cube’s darkened face.

“Cut power to transporters,” Janeway said. “Steady as she goes.”

By the time we made it to Korok’s ship, half of his fleet had been destroyed or seriously damaged. How would they make it back to their base?

“Cut thrusters.”

The moment _Voyager_ stopped moving, Korok snapped us up in a tractor beam. For the second time in days, I watched through a viewscreen as a Borg ship swallowed me whole.

Just as we were reaching the holding bay doors, a sensor display caught my eye. Two of Korok’s ships drifted towards the Borg line so slowly they must have been using thrusters. They were too heavily damaged to do much else. As the holding bay doors squeezed shut, I watched the two green dots on my screen vanish in a coordinated act of self-destruction, blowing a portion of the enemy fleet away with them.

Then, safe inside the belly of Korok’s ship, we fled.


	17. Kingdom Come

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Source Episode: VOY 6x18 Ashes to Ashes
> 
> Thanks to Caladeniablue for helping me edit this chapter!

Once we were out of harm’s way, all of the stress that had kept me going for so long dissipated. There was still so much to do, so much to discuss, but my body was just about done. Thankfully, Captain Janeway relieved us all for the night with orders not to return until we’d had at least a few hours of sleep.

But Harry and I couldn’t resist the urge to visit sickbay first.

Despite knowing what was waiting for us there, the sight of Lyndsay alive and covered in cybernetic implants was a shock. She sat on the surgical bay biobed, presumably behind a force field, while Schmullis scanned and prodded and took samples. Her brown hair was gone. Fair skin had become an almost transparent grey, dark lines of nanoprobe-infested blood vessels twisting along the bones and muscles beneath. Her one remaining eye had gone from hazel-green to grey, and the other had been removed to make room for her ocular implant. They’d taken an arm, as well, replaced by a multi-tool implant installed on engineering drones.

Harry froze in the doorway, his grip tightening on mine and his stiff arm jerking me to a stop.

Lyndsay forced a smile. “I was wondering when you guys would stop by to see me.”

A tremor passed through Harry’s hand. “I watched you die.”

“In glorious battle, no less.”

“How?”

“Well, the quick version is that the Borg have access to technologies we can’t even begin to understand. They picked up my pod, did their thing, and _abracadabra_! I’m back from the dead.” She embellished her story with a dramatic wave like a showman performing to an audience. “Pretty great other than—“ she lifted the implant on her left arm— “this whole get-up. And the part where I was a drone. That was ass.”

Harry took a step forward, still clinging to my hand. Then another. And another.

By the time we reached the edge of the surgical bay, Schmullis had finished his exam. “I've compared her DNA with the genetic samples from Ensign Ballard's file. They match.” Setting down his instruments, the doctor wheeled his tray towards the bay’s boundaries and nodded at one of the security guards.

The guard released the force field.

Harry stepped into the surgical bay, his hand slipping from mine, as Lyndsay slid off the biobed. “So it’s really you?” he asked quietly.

She smiled. “In the flesh... so to speak.”

The way his face melted told me he’d decided to believe her. Soon enough, he was pulling her into a tight hug.

She smiled, closing her eye and allowing a tear to fall. “I’ve missed you, too.”

The _whoosh_ of doors announced more visitors— Captain Janeway and Tal Celes. As they approached, Janeway crossed her arms and shot a look at Schmullis. “I hope this means you’ve confirmed her identity, Doctor.”

Harry released his hold on Lyndsay and stepped back, wiping tears from his eyes. “It was my fault, Captain. I broke security protocol.”

“And disobeyed orders,” she said. The twinkle in her eyes and smirk on her lips framed the words as a tease even as her tone implied a rebuke.

“Lyndsay?” Celes choked out, her voice failing her. All color had drained from her face. “Is— is it— is that you?”

“It’s me, _ja’Tal_ ,” Lyndsay whispered back. All the jocularity in her demeanor had disappeared, replaced by the weight of love and loss and hope.

“Ma’am?” asked one of the security officers.

Janeway held up a halting hand.

With cautious steps, Celes made her way to the place where Lyndsay stood. “I can’t believe you’re real. Are you... real?”

Lyndsay stepped forward, closing the short distance between them, and pulled Celes into a deep kiss. Celes’s arms circled around Lyndsay’s armored body, and Lyndsay’s hand caressed her partner’s face.

I wove my fingers between Harry’s and squeezed, smiling when he glanced down at me. He pressed a kiss into my hair.

When the couple finally broke apart, Lyndsay rested her forehead against Celes’s. “I’m real, Tal. I’m real, I’m home, and I’m never leaving you again.”

“Thank the Prophets,” Celes whispered.

Indeed.

And although I got the sense that Captain Janeway’s visit had been intended for more than simply escorting Celes, she followed Harry and me out of sickbay less than a minute later, leaving the two lovers within clinging to one another and weeping with joy.

* * *

The sun was high in the sky and hot— so hot. Wind whipped dust into swirls around me. I could taste it in my mouth, making me want for water. The dry surface of the planet bit into my knees as I knelt at a small mound marked by a pile of stones. My hands were stained red with blood. One hand held the knife that had been in my family for so many generations; it, too, was covered in blood.

What was his name?

There was a name connected to this. I knew that much. Had I killed him? The evidence right before my eyes seemed to say as much, but the judgement felt wrong. Something larger was going on, and I was caught in the middle.

What was his name?

I squinted at the dry desert dirt beneath which his body lay. It seemed incredibly important that I remember his name; I couldn’t leave until I did. If only I could remember, maybe I could stop death from coming again.

What was his name?

The more I searched my mind, the further the answer slipped away. If I lost this, I’d lose everything. I stabbed at the mound of dirt, anger and fear quickly becoming panic. What if I never remembered? The name, the name.

What was his name?

My eyes snapped open, nothing but darkness greeting them. I floated above myself for several seconds before see-sawing back down into my body.

Where was I?

Bed.

I lifted both hands to my face, sniffing and feeling for blood. None was there; they were clean. Still, I wiped them multiple times on the blankets before allowing them to wander down my body, seeking the indentations of stretch marks on my belly. My fingers absently traced the jagged lines carved into my skin.

What had I been so desperately trying to figure out just moments ago? It seemed important, even as I became aware that it was a dream. I closed my eyes and tried to return, to capture the answer I needed before it fell away completely. My body grew heavy and I slithered out of it like an enviro-suit.

Dirt. Desert. A grave. Blood. My knife.

The images flashed quickly by, leaving a tidal wave of mashed-up emotions behind. It was too much. I recoiled, jerking back into my body with a gasp.

Harry breathed steadily beside me, undisturbed. I wiped my hands once more and reached for him, burrowing against his back, pressing my nose into his neck, breathing deeply the scent of his skin. He smelled like safety, like home.

Then, I remembered.

“Rojel,” I murmured as I began to drift off. His name was Rojel.

Son of the journey.

* * *

The next day was a flurry of activity. Having arrived at the Unity Alliance base in the early hours of the morning, _Voyager_ left her hiding place in Korok’s sphere and docked at a repair station orbiting a planet the Zahl called Sinoso. It was less than a light year from the last com-net node this side of the border between quadrants, so Captain Janeway was up early to share updates with Queen Nessav and to schedule meetings with our allies.

Eleven light years. We were eleven light years from the Beta Quadrant.

After the usual morning senior staff briefing, Janeway asked me to stay for a meeting with Annika and Lyndsay. Chakotay had his hands full overseeing repairs and running alpha shift, but I knew the captain would fill him in later. The room sat in uncomfortable silence until Tuvok returned with Annika in tow, the pair taking seats opposite me and Lyndsay.

Annika seemed even less Borg than she had when she left us. She wore short sleeves, and the only implant visible on her arms was the exoskeleton reinforcing her left hand, wrist, and forearm— something she had probably opted to keep for practical purposes. Her civvies were more form-fitting than her uniform had been, yet there was a noticeable lack of bulges and lines from the exoplating that once armored her torso. The outward portion of her cortical implant had been almost completely erased, only a thin metal eyebrow left as a way to interface with the cybernetic systems that lay beneath.

Other than that, she looked exactly as I remembered her— long angular face, golden-blonde hair falling to her shoulders, fair skin glowing with a healthy pink hue that spoke of regular sun lamp exposure, and piercing blue-green eyes. She walked with a confident stride and sat with a posture that, while still proper, no longer spoke of stiff discomfort.

“Captain Janeway,” she said, dipping her head. She glanced over to offer me the same greeting. “Lieutenant Commander Eelo. I hope you are both well.”

“All things considered,” Janeway said, “I’d say we’re doing alright. You remember Ensign Ballard?”

Annika nodded at the ex-drone next to me. “I do, although it seems some important changes have taken place since our battle with General Annorax. Perhaps we should begin there.”

“Very well. Ensign?”

Lyndsay shifted, looking a bit surprised by Annika’s eagerness to get to the point. “Oh. Um, okay. Well, uh, I guess the last thing I remember was being on Harry’s unit trying to take the _Solassat’s_ engine room. A Krenim soldier was about to shoot out a conduit by Ayala’s team. I wasn’t even thinking, I just had to stop it. I yelled, jumped out of line, and then...” She shook her head. “The next thing I remember is waking up strapped to a table in a Borg lab. It didn’t feel like I’d been assimilated, except I had implants. It was like a bad dream where what you fear the most is twisted in some way your conscious mind would never think to twist it. There was a stasis chamber beside me... and I was inside. Not me, of course, but another version of me. No implants. She was wearing a dress uniform laser-cut right down the middle, and she had a big black hole in her chest like she’d been shot with a phaser set to kill. I kept thinking, ‘I’ll wake up eventually,’ like it was all a dream—“

Janeway held up a hand. “Hold on just one moment. Are you saying that the Borg didn’t revive you, but that you’re actually a—“

“A clone of Lyndsay Ballard?” she interrupted. “I think so. At least, that’s my best guess.”

“Were you aware that the Borg possessed this technology, Miss Hansen?” Tuvok asked.

“Yes. It is not new, though knowledge of it is not widespread within the collective. The Borg acquired it from species two nine six, Vorta. I believe the Federation is familiar with their cloning capabilities.”

“The Dominion,” I said.

“Correct. We have yet to determine what the Borg use this technology for.”

“I think you just found your answer,” Janeway said.

Annika ticked her eyebrow. “Perhaps.”

“Please continue, Miss Ballard,” Tuvok said.

“Well, eventually a drone came in. She looked like she could have been Terran once— course, I know now she’s El-Aurian. It was the queen herself, come to assimilate me.”

“Loran?” I asked.

“No. The queen of a different faction. At the time, there weren’t factions, and she was just the primary administrative drone for unimatrix zero one. She’s called Ashan. I don’t know why she wanted to assimilate me herself. She just walked up, smiled down at me, said, ‘Good, you’re awake.’ Then, she assimilated me. After that, I don’t remember anything. Like, I know things. I know I was an engineering drone. I know how to do engineering tasks on a Borg ship. That sort of stuff. But I don’t have memories. Not until our collective fell to Loran’s collective yesterday and I somehow got disconnected from the hive mind. That’s when I contacted you.”

“How much of your previous memory have you retained?” Annika asked.

“What, you mean from _Voyager_?”

“Yes. Technical specifications of this vessel and of _Equinox_ , for example.”

Lyndsay frowned, seeming to think about this for several seconds. “I think I remember everything. It might be a little rusty, but I could go back to work today if I needed to.”

“Then we must presume the Borg know everything Ensign Ballard knew,” Annika said, turning back to the captain.

“Meaning they might be able to track down _Equinox_ ,” Janeway said.

“Shit,” I muttered.

“I’m sorry,” Lyndsay whispered.

I touched her arm. “It’s not your fault.”

“I know, but still...”

Janeway folded her hands. “Thank you, Ensign. You may go.”

Lyndsay nodded, and the room fell silent as she left. The hissing of the doors seemed to enhance the general sense of tension permeating the room— permeating me.

“Now,” Janeway said, drawing my attention back to the meeting. “Annika, I believe it’s your turn to explain yourself.”

Annika’s arms tightened against her sides. “Yes, but first we must come to an understanding.”

“Oh? What about?”

“General Korok wishes for me to be the liaison on _Voyager_ representing unimatrix zero. I confess, I am eager to return. _Voyager_ became my collective— my... _home_ — while I was here.” She paused, collected herself, then continued in a clearer voice that swelled as she spoke. “That being said, while I will respect your authority aboard _Voyager,_ I must also respect the wishes of those I represent. During this meeting, for example, you may ask me questions, but I reserve the right not to answer. There are delicate matters involved with the circumstances of my departure, and it is best at this juncture not to discuss them.”

Janeway’s posture straightened,spine snapping taught and arms crossing in warning. As she lifted her chin, those blue eyes flashed like lightning above a churning sea. “So, what you’re saying is that your actions were part of a classified mission above and beyond the mission I sent you on as a member of my crew, after which you defected to unimatrix zero whose leadership still believes I should not know the truth despite what my crew and I have sacrificed to help them.”

“I understand your frustration, Captain, but it is not a slight against you or this crew. On the contrary, this knowledge must be guarded in order to protect you, and to ensure our success against the Borg. You know as well as I do that, while the division of the collective will delay their progress for a time, they will recover and push forward into the Alpha Quadrant.”

My thoughts strayed to the terrible future I had seen in dreams and visions— a thin barrier separating us from the Borg, the alarm on Deep Space Nine when the collective broke through, Annika forced into being the queen’s messenger and demanding me as tribute, General Worf insisting that the Borg had no honor, the Emissary calling me into the Celestial Temple. I thought of what had happened after the final vision’s end, when I challenged Captain Janeway about how to respond. ‘They’ll bring war to the Federation,’ I’d said, ‘and, eventually, win that one, too.’

“Perhaps,” Janeway was saying to Annika, her voice low as she leaned forward and narrowed those stormy eyes on our former crewman. “But let me make myself abundantly clear. If you ever harm a member of my crew again, use them against their will or without their knowledge, I don’t give a damn if it’s for the greater good or not. I _will_ consider that an act of aggression and you _will_ be held accountable according to our laws. Do we have an understanding, Miss Hansen?”

Although I knew her words were in defense of me, my insides still recoiled from the venom in her tone. I never held Annika’s actions against her, but the captain clearly did.

Annika didn’t even flinch. “Yes, Captain.”

“Good. Now that we have that settled, I’d like to know what you know about the Borg and how we’re going to stop them.”

With a slight nod, Annika sat back and began to explain. “Loran was the administrator of unimatrix zero two. You refer to her as a ‘queen,’ which is an even more apt term than it was before the splitting of the collective. For centuries, the Borg have existed as one single collective brought to order by five primary administrative drones. However, it seems Loran wishes to be the only administrator over all of the unimatrices. Not long after our mission to liberate unimatrix zero, Loran overwhelmed unimatrix zero three, located in what the Federation refers to as sector J-25, using the primary transwarp hub.”

“Transwarp hub?” I asked. “I haven’t heard of that before.”

“I’m not surprised. The transwarp hubs form a series of interconnected transwarp conduits. The Borg assimilated this technology with the El-Aurian species more than two hundred years ago. It has allowed them to assimilate hundreds of species previously beyond their reach and build unimatrices across the galaxy. They have since adapted the technology to build transwarp coils for their vessels, but the hubs are more stable and their conduits can traverse much greater distances.”

“Could these conduits extend all the way to Earth?” Janeway asked.

“Or Cardassia?” I added, the visions still lingering in my mind.

“Yes, although it is more likely that such conduits would originate in sector J-25 as it is closer to the Alpha Quadrant.”

“Where is the primary transwarp hub located?” Tuvok asked.

“Approximately two thousand light years from our present location, in the El-Aurian system. Now that Loran has conquered unimatrix zero one, she controls three of the six transwarp hubs.”

I frowned. “That battle seemed a little small to be the deciding factor in taking an entire collective.”

“The battle you witnessed was one of many. Loran used her greater numbers to draw Ashan’s forces into multiple simultaneous confrontations, leaving unimatrix zero one— and thus Ashan herself— vulnerable to invasion. Loran does not need to defeat an entire collective; she only needs to assimilate their queen.”

Janeway tapped her fingers on the table. “Let’s get back to these transwarp hubs. Is there a way to destabilize the conduits— cut the Borg off from expanding any further?”

Annika nodded. “We had a similar solution. The hubs are located within each unimatrix. They will be difficult to infiltrate, but it is possible so long as we are able to complete another mission first.”

“Which is?”

“At the moment, three of the six hubs are disconnected from the network to prevent an attack from a rival collective. We intend to return the Borg to their natural state by reunifying the remaining queens. The Borg will reopen conduits connecting all six hubs, at which point we will capture and destroy the network entirely.”

The slightest of frowns crossed Tuvok’s face. “Will the Borg not be able to simply rebuild a new transwarp network?”

“They will not. The Borg have attempted to recreate the technology many times, but have never been successful. The collective will be spread too thinly across the quadrant to continue assimilating new species in an efficient way, and the queens will consolidate their forces. They will return to their own space in the Delta Quadrant.“

It was my turn to frown. “That might help us, but it won’t help our allies here. Has Queen Nessav approved this?”

“No. Many of our forces— myself included— have been out of contact with the Krenim Commonwealth since the liberation.”

“I’d like to wait and see what she says before I make up my mind,” Janeway said.

Annika nodded. “Of course. There is one other thing. Regardless of whether or not we move forward with this plan, it would be to our advantage to understand the origin of the Borg and these so-called ‘queens.’ The collective’s memory prior to the assimilation of El-Aurian is fragmentary; prior to the twenty-second century, it is non-existent. If we are to unite the queens and their collectives, we will need to understand how they were first united. If, however, our allies choose to move in a different direction, the information would still be quite valuable to our common cause.”

“Agreed,” Janeway said, drawing out the word like an invitation to say more.

“We believe the most logical place to look is the Vaadwaur homeworld. They were the original species to discover and utilize the underspace network. Any records left behind after their destruction may contain clues into the collective’s history.”

“Uh, not to be a downer,” I said, “but the Turei have that system locked up and guarded like an Obsidian Order base of operations. There’s no way we could get in, and even if we could, it would be a serious breach of our alliance.”

Annika’s one blonde brow lifted. “That will only be a problem if we are discovered. Initially, we had intended to ask Captain Ransom to take us there aboard _Equinox_ , using the vessel’s cloaking capabilities to complete the mission undetected. As an alternative, I propose you contact the Srivani for assistance.”

I shook my head. “I don’t like it, and I doubt they will, either.”

“You have strong diplomatic relations with their leadership, Commander. Convince them.”

I opened my mouth to protest, but Janeway held up a hand. “There might be another way to get the information you want.”

“Explain.”

“That signal we were sent into the nebula to find? It was a damaged Borg cube. Most of the drones were dead; only a few of the children in maturation chambers survived. One of those children is a Brenari secret-keeper, carrying generations of history and memories in her head.”

For the first time since walking into the room, Annika’s cool affect cracked. She flinched, blinked, as if she had been struck. “Brenari?” she asked quietly.

“It’s Anelina,” I said. “Queen Nessav got her out of the Devore work camp and hid her on another world. It’s a long story, but she’s here.”

“On _Voyager_ ,” Annika said, eyeing me skeptically.

“Yes,” Janeway confirmed, her tone softening. “She wants to see you.”


	18. Burned by the Dark

The next day, Janeway called me into sickbay to debrief Iliana.

The former Obsidian Order agent looked well enough. Her wound had healed and Kes expected to release her by the end of alpha shift. She sat propped against a pillow on the biobed, her expression a mix of annoyance and disinterest as the captain, Tuvok, and I shuffled in between her bed and the privacy field.

“Computer,” Tuvok said, “secure the area around biobed two, authorization Tuvok-theta-nine.”

The computer trilled. “Voiceprint authorization confirmed. Biobed two security field in place.”

“Begin recording.”

Another trill in confirmation.

Iliana crossed her arms.

Janeway read the unspoken message in Iliana’s gesture. “Alright, let’s cut to the chase. Who sold the Brenari out to the Devore?”

“Jen Delaney.”

“Why?”

Iliana shrugged. “I don’t know. You’ll have to ask her.”

“How did you know she was talking to the Devore?”

Iliana ran her tongue over her teeth, her expression growing more annoyed. She said nothing.

“It’s hard,” I said, “giving up your secrets to people you don’t trust. You told me a long time ago that you thought Jen and her sister were interested in me. You implied I should keep an eye on them.”

Iliana smirked. “Caught that, did you?”

“I did. We have suspicions about them; so do you. Problem is, neither one of us can trust the other enough to start sharing our suspicions. But Terrans have a saying. ‘The enemy of my enemy is my friend.’ I think it applies now. We’ll all be in a much better place to do something about our common problem if we work together.”

Iliana lifted her chin. “Alright then. Tell me what you know.”

“You are not in a position to make demands, Miss Ghemor,” Tuvok said.

“I disagree. I played enough poker while I was with the Maquis to know how this works.” She turned those calculating green eyes on Janeway. “You came to me, captain. You raised the stakes. That means you show your hand first.”

Janeway examined Iliana, arms crossed like a mirror image of the Kardasi woman. “Alright,” she said. “We have it on good authority that Ensign Delaney works for a Federation secret service agency known as Section 31. It is largely unknown to most Federation citizens and members of Starfleet, and those who are aware of its existence like to turn a blind eye to its activities. We have kept this information to ourselves while we investigate Miss Delaney’s activities and motives, but we are keen to gather as much information as we can to expose Section 31’s crimes to important stakeholders in our government and the governments of our allies. I’d imagine you agree the organization should be disbanded, no?”

A wicked smile crossed Iliana’s face. “Yes, I would.”

“Then tell me how you knew she sold us out to the Devore.”

“You won’t like it.”

Janeway placed her hands on the biobed’s railing and leaned in. “At this point, Crewman, I don’t care what you’ve done. I just need to know what you know.”

Iliana’s smile widened. “Music to my ears, Captain.”

Janeway straightened, crossing her arms again as if to say, ‘I’m listening.’

“It’s simple. I hacked her and Megan’s IDs, planted a little bug in there to report back to me with their activities. Most of it is rather dull, but every now and again I find something interesting.”

“Why offer to help the Brenari?” I asked. “After all this time sitting on what you know, collecting intel, why risk it for them?”

Iliana’s bravado slipped, shattered like a porcelain mask. Her arms fell, hands dropping into her lap, and for the first time she couldn’t meet our eyes. “I was weak,” she muttered, shaking her head. “Sentimental and weak.”

“You were unaware of the child’s importance?” Tuvok asked.

She scoffed. “No, Tuvok. I didn’t know anything about her. I still don’t.”

“Then why do it?” Janeway asked.

But I knew the answer already. I knew it in my _pagh_ , in that deep and empty place where Rojel’s death had carved a hole that would never heal. It was the same reason I’d been so desperate to save the Borg fetus the moment I saw her. “You couldn’t stand to let another child die when you had the power to save her,” I murmured.

“ _Pagh rokaya_ ,” Iliana said, still staring at her hands.

“I beg your pardon?” Janeway asked.

“She says I’m right,” I answered, my voice wavering slightly. I cleared my throat and met the captain’s eyes, allowing her to see the pain on my face. _Be gentle_ , I willed her. We were cutting into a nerve.

The captain nodded, dropping both arms and relaxing her stance before turning back to Iliana. “So you offered to help them escape. But how?”

Iliana looked up, her eyes hard like gemstones. “I put a tracker into the girl’s arm, and planted bombs in the others. I told them they didn’t all have to die, but they wanted to give her a better chance at escape.” She shrugged. “I guess she was important. Her log had a code hidden in it to sync to her tracker. Your borg sent it to the Krenim queen, so that’s who found her. Nessav contacted me about a week later to ask for help hiding her. I told her to change the girl’s identity and appearance. We never spoke again after that.”

“Yet you recognized her when you boarded the Borg cube,” Tuvok said, “despite her being surgically altered and partially assimilated.”

“I have sharp eyes.”

“Were you not aware that Anelina would be on that Borg vessel?”

“No, I wasn’t.”

“Yet you possessed the tools necessary to recall her suppressed memories?”

“I didn’t need anything special, Commander. It’s not hard, as long as you know what you’re doing. I saw an opportunity to give myself the advantage, and I took it. You should be thanking me. I had more foresight than any of your Starfleet people did.”

“Perhaps if you had informed us of your plans, we could have been better prepared.”

Iliana snorted. “You’re welcome. Any other questions?”

Janeway spoke next. “I want any and all records you’ve kept regarding Megan and Jennifer Delaney, as well as anything else you might have on Section 31.”

Iliana’s brows rose. “Quite a request, Captain. What do I get out of this exchange?”

Janeway placed both hands on her hips and lifted her chin, seeming to fill up the tiny space. “That’s not a request, nor will it be an exchange, _Crewman_. If those records are not on my desk first thing tomorrow morning, I’ll have Lieutenant Commander Tuvok personally escort you to the brig. Do I make myself clear?”

A strange, amused sort of smile split Iliana’s face. “Very.”

The captain’s affect remained as cold and hard as a stone. “Good. Then we’re done here.”

“Computer,” Tuvok said, “end recording and deactivate security protocols around biobed two, authorization Tuvok-theta-nine.”

“Voiceprint authorization confirmed,” the computer responded. “Biobed two security field deactivated.”

“Captain,” I said, “I’d like to stay and have a private word with Crewman Ghemor, if that’s alright.”

Janeway nodded, then turned to leave the privacy field with Tuvok trailing behind her.

“Hope you don’t mind,” I said, perching on the chair beside her bed.

Iliana eyed me suspiciously. “What do you want, Eelo?”

I leaned in closer and lowered my voice. “When did you find out about Marnah?”

“It had nothing to do with our arrangement, if that’s what you’re asking.”

I shook my head. “There was a time when you wanted me to be suspicious of her. You may have backpedaled on that one, but now I know what you meant. I know what she was, what she wanted. When did you find out?”

“When my memories returned.”

“So Seska never knew?”

She smirked. “Seska suspected the General was still a powerfully-placed person in the Federation. I didn’t know what game your mother was playing, but it was obvious she had a prime seat at the table. Why do you think I agreed to her request?”

“Because I was the best sex you ever had?”

Iliana laughed. “Oh, you wish.”

I nodded. “A little, yeah. In some prideful, wounded part of me that will always need to be better than you.”

“You really need to get over that.”

“I know.”

“Besides, if the General could see us now, there’d be no question which of us she likes more. She’d kill me on the spot. It’s no use being jealous anymore.”

For a moment, we fell into silence. What could I say? She was right, of course, but I couldn’t stand to admit such a thing. More than that, I struggled to stay above thoughts that floated in the depths of my mind, threatening to sink me— thoughts of Marnah being tortured by Dukat’s men until nothing of her was left, of her being put into stasis and stored like an artifact rather than a person. I shook my head, refusing to let myself go there.

Finally, I asked, “Why didn’t you ever tell anyone about our arrangement?”

“You mean, why didn’t I tell Tom or Chakotay?”

“No. Well, I mean, yeah, but also just... anyone.”

Iliana shrugged. “It wasn’t anyone’s damn business.”

“You were set to marry Eelo Fayeni’s _tal’rahl_. You could have been one of the most admired people on Bajor. Even back then, I knew you were motivated by power and recognition. But you never owned that one. Then I heard the things you were saying about me behind my back, and I found out that you’d talked to me that first night just to bed me and win a bet—“ My throat closed and I cleared it, cursing myself for how much Seska’s betrayal still hurt.

Iliana huffed. “What do you want from me, Eelo? An apology? We were betrothed; we weren’t in love. It was a political arrangement, and it would have benefitted you and the General just as much as it benefitted me.”

“It was improper for you to act that way.”

She tilted her head. “Oh, you poor, spoiled Starfleet brat. Life was so unfair to you.”

I rolled my eyes. “You know, you’re still a bitch.”

“You were never going to fit in with the other Bajorans, Eelo. Especially not resistance fighters. Why the fuck did you even join the Maquis in the first place?”

“You know why.”

“I know the General manipulated you into doing what she wanted.”

“She didn’t want me to join the Maquis.”

“Bullshit,” Iliana hissed. “She may have told you that, but she knew exactly what she was doing. I’d be willing to bet she was following someone else’s orders on that one.”

I frowned, thinking back to the fallout of Marnah’s resignation from Starfleet, her turn to the resistance. I’d been stationed at Alpha Trianguli III along the Federation-Cardassian border when the Kardasi left Bajor. Terok Nor station was ceded to the Bajoran people, who asked the Federation to help them hold it. I’d just heard from an old friend, Jadzia, that she was about to be assigned duty on that station— rechristened Deep Space Nine— and I was excited to visit her there.

Then the orders came. I was recalled to Earth, assigned to Starfleet Medical HQ. They gave me a promotion but no explanation as to why they suddenly wanted me away from the border. When I arrived, they detained me and questioned me about Marnah’s betrayal until I began to doubt my own motives. I begged for a deep space assignment far away from the conflict, but was denied. They made me increasingly miserable until I simply couldn’t take the abuse anymore.

“They wanted me to resign,” I whispered. “They pulled strings with Starfleet Intelligence and Command to pressure me, make me so miserable that I left... and I ran right into the arms of the Maquis.”

“Took you long enough to figure that out,” Iliana said. “I thought you fleeters were supposed to be smart.”

Her words didn’t even land. I may as well have simply vanished from the room. My stomach had become stone, my limbs disconnected, my head a kite carried away by the cold wind of a new realization. Nothing— not a single one of my choices before _Voyager_ — had ever been mine. And since then?

I shook my head. “I have to go.” Jumping to my feet, I practically sprinted out of sickbay.

* * *

After my talk with Iliana, the morning seemed to drag on endlessly. I was distracted, unable to focus on departmental reports. My entire life was a series of reactions to the manipulation of others with more power than me. Had I ever made a choice on my own?

Joining Starfleet? It had been a dream of mine since childhood, but it was also a family expectation. Only my sister bucked that, and she always was the odd one in our family system.

Becoming a counselor? I was inspired by Aunt Aradne as well as a psychology professor at academy prep, but the choice had been my own. Daddy supported it; Marnah was furious. But my choice had been co-opted from the beginning. I’d wanted to be a deep space counselor on a ship; instead, the most interesting part of my career before _Voyager_ was Alpha Tri.

Even since being flung across the galaxy, far from the influence of Marnah and Section 31, I’d been manipulated by the Prophets, Q, Susperia, and, yes, somehow even Section 31.

Prophets.

The PADD in my hand fell to the desk with a clatter, but I barely even noticed. I needed to talk to the Prophet. It meant facing the thing I’d been avoiding for weeks— the Orb of Peace, and the Emissary housed within. The prospect made my insides twist painfully, but I knew his true identity. There was no need for him to take on the appearance of Marnah or anyone else.

It was time for me to properly meet Captain Benjamin Sisko.

* * *

“It took you long enough to come and see me.”

At the end of my shift, I’d immediately contacted Tuvok to arrange for some time with the orb in his quarters. I’d barely opened the box before I was swept into a vision of an empty white room where I stood alone with the Emissary himself.

“I thought time wasn’t a concern for the Prophets,” I said.

“I’m not a Prophet.”

I laughed and considered the man. “My grandma had a saying. ‘If it walks like a duck and it quacks like a duck, then it’s probably a duck.’” I gestured towards him. “You seem pretty Prophet-like to me.”

His lips curled up and parted in a wide smile. “You have no idea what I’m like.”

“Alright, Captain Not-A-Prophet,” I said, crossing my arms and forcing confidence into my voice, “tell me something. Why are you manipulating me?”

“Manipulating?” he echoed. “I’m not manipulating you.”

“Trapping Marnah behind enemy lines so the Caretaker would snatch our ship instead of hers? Giving me visions, insisting _Voyager_ ally with the Borg to create a weapon that could destroy an entire race? Helping to create an entirely new kind of being in Alixia and sending her to me with visions of a future in which the Borg overtake the Alpha Quadrant? Telling the Unity One co-op to travel halfway across this quadrant just to bring me the orb you had me make for them?”

“I’ve manipulated some events,” he conceded, “but I haven’t manipulated you.”

“You’re manipulating events around me in order to force me to act.”

“Force? No. I’ve guided you, your comrades, your friends, but I haven’t forced anyone to do anything. There’s a difference.”

I frowned. “No, there really isn’t. Either way, you took away my freedom to choose.”

“Changing your options is not the same thing as taking your freedom.”

“It’s coercion,” I snapped, arms falling to my sides and hands balling into fists. “Which means you’re no better than Marnah, no better than Section 31. No better than the Borg.”

He raised his brows. “That sounds to me like black-and-white thinking.”

“Don’t you dare use therapy terms on me!” I shouted, my closely-held emotions all coalescing into a fury that exploded through every cell in my body.

It may have seemed petty to most, but he was a command officer— a bunch notorious for bucking the wisdom of mental health professionals yet acting as if they were such experts in everything. Dying and becoming a Prophet didn’t change the human biases of his past. Of all people, he had no right to lecture me about cognitions.

Still, I hadn’t meant to get so angry, but I was wounded— wounded from Marnah’s lies and Seska’s betrayal, from Starfleet and Section 31, from the brutal war between the Maquis and the Cardassian Union, from Jen Delaney and Tom, from losing Rojel, from Captain Ransom’s death, and from all the other ways my life had been torn to shreds over and over again.

Blood roared in my ears as all my pent-up feelings finally broke free, projected onto this man. “You use your power to bend everyone else to your will, not caring about how that might affect us— how much damage you might cause to someone’s life or relationships or mental health. What right do you have to do what you’ve done and pass yourself off as some kind of superior form of life? None. You hear me? You have no right. So, fuck you. Fuck you and your power trip. Fuck you and your plans. Find someone else to control. I won’t play your games anymore.”

The tirade left me breathless, but my _pagh_ felt suddenly weightless, as if those feelings had all been chains holding my deepest self down in a dark dungeon and now I was finally free to reach for the light.

I’d expected anger or offense, or perhaps even condescension, but Sisko’s face filled instead with sympathy and sorrow. “There was a time when I was like you,” he said softly, his deep, smooth voice becoming gravelly for the first time. “A time when I, too, chose to ignore the counsel of the Prophets. I thought I was doing the right thing, standing up for myself, doing my duty as a Starfleet captain instead of falling for the flowery, pretentious bullshit I kept getting from the Prophets.” He clenched his jaw, and I knew he was trying hard to swallow his own pain.

“What happened?” I asked gently, my anger ebbing away.

“I lost one of my oldest and dearest friends,” he said, “Jadzia Dax.”

I sighed, my shoulders slumping. His admission disarmed me completely.

“I also allowed a _Pah’wraith_ to seal the wormhole and darken the orbs— that is, all but one.”

“The Orb of Peace,” I whispered.

“No. The Orb of the Emissary. This orb exists only in two timelines; the others exist in many more. The Orb of the Emissary revealed a new path to me— the path of the Prophets. It reopened the wormhole, and it drew Ezri Dax to me, but nothing can change the fact that I cost Jadzia her life.”

“I’m sorry.”

“So am I.” He lifted his chin, steel returning to his posture and authority to his voice. “But that was a different life. I tell you that so you won’t make the same mistake I did. I have not come here to take away your free will; I have come to show you a new path laid by the Prophets, but only you can choose whether or not to walk it.”

“And if I choose not to?”

“Then maybe another will choose to walk it in your place. Maybe not.”

“And then we’ll all lose to the Borg.”

“Maybe.”

I crossed my arms. “Alright. Say I did decide to follow this path. What would I do next?”

“First, you must use the opportunity you’ve been given. _Voyager_ is under repair. It will be weeks before she’s ready for her next mission. So use the downtime to learn as much as you can about the orbs.”

“I’m afraid we have limited information on Bajoran religious history in our database.”

“There is another way. Before she was murdered, Jadzia was the one I turned to when I needed answers about the orbs or any other ancient Bajoran artifacts. You’ve been avoiding a letter from Ezri Dax. Read it. Contact her and ask for information.”

I frowned. “Why can’t you just tell me whatever it is you want me to know?”

Sisko grinned. “You’d like it to be that easy, wouldn’t you?”

And then, as suddenly as it began, the experience was over, leaving me on my knees before a glowing blue orb in Tuvok’s silent quarters.

Sensing my return to reality, Tuvok asked, “What did the Prophet show you?”

I shifted into a more comfortable sitting position but kept my eyes on the orb. “A path,” I murmured. “And I think I’m going to take it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pagh rokaya: Literally “the soul sees”; essentially it means a person has good insight
> 
> Pah’wraith: An evil spirit, conceptually similar to a demon, who used to be a Prophet but was cast out of the wormhole and bound in the deep “fire caves” of Bajor due to desires to use their power against lower forms of life


	19. New Year’s Day

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Source Episode: VOY 7x12 Lineage
> 
> CW: Description of, and discussion about, sexual abuse in a dating relationship.

My next session with B’Elanna brought up _Equinox_ and the ship’s young commanding officer, Lieutenant Commander Maxwell Burke. He’d been on B’Elanna’s mind ever since _Equinox_ fled the Borg battle outside the blue nebula. No one had heard from them since, and B’Elanna was worried.

She and Burke had dated for some time while they were at the academy—B’Elanna as a first year cadet and Burke in his third year. She recalled their meeting to me with a fond smile on her face.

“Honestly, I didn’t think he’d even noticed me. At least, not any more than the way everyone always noticed me.” She gestured to the ridges on her forehead. “But then he came over and talked to me. Bought me drinks. He listened to my stories, asked good questions, and looked at me like I was the most important person in the room. A Terran! And a cute one at that. He never once stared at my ridges. He always looked me in the eyes. He made me forget about what I was for a little while.”

“That must have felt validating to be seen as a person rather than a species.”

“It was thrilling. He even offered to walk me back to my dorm. He asked if my roommate was there, and I said no. She wasn’t around much. We didn’t exactly get along. So he asked if he could come in. I told him I didn’t want to rush into anything, but he said he just wanted to have some coffee and keep talking because he liked me so much, so I let him in.” She bit her lip, looking hesitant to continue.

“Did he respect the boundaries you set up?” I asked.

“Not... exactly. I mean, we _did_ talk and drink coffee. After that, he helped me clean up, put the cups in the recycler, and then... he kissed me. Honestly, it was something I’d wanted him to do all night, so I kissed him back. And, well, things got kinda heated. One thing led to another, and we...”

“Had sex?”

“Yeah.”

“Was it consensual?”

B’Elanna frowned. “Well, yeah. It’s not like he raped me or anything. I mean, okay, maybe I wasn’t super into it, but he didn’t do anything until I said yes.”

“Why did you say yes if you weren’t into it?”

“Honestly? To get him to shut the fuck up. He kept grinding his cock against my pussy and begging me to let him fuck me. He was all, ‘I need you,’ and ‘I just think you’re so amazing,’ and ‘I can’t walk home with a boner like this, it hurts too much.’ And it felt kinda nice... being wanted. So finally I was just like, whatever, and I let him fuck me.”

“Correct me if I’m wrong, but it sounds to me like he pressured you to have sex with him when you weren’t ready to take that step.”

B’Elanna looked down at her hands, fidgeting in her lap. “Yeah, I guess that’s true. But he was young. That’s what guys that age do. He’s not a bad person.”

I wanted to stop the session right there, to cross the room and gather her into my arms, to apologize for what happened to her. Tom had been right about Burke, and I’d brushed it off as simple jealousy. But it wasn’t my place—not as her therapist, her comrade, perhaps even her friend—to get entangled in the complicated relationships she had with other people. I had to stay outside of it all as best as I could.

Instead, I pressed onward. “What happened after you and Max had sex?”

“I couldn’t sleep that night. Couldn’t eat the next day. Couldn’t even stand the smell of coffee. I’d be walking to class, see someone who looked like him, and put my head down so he wouldn’t see me. Or I’d smell someone with the same cologne and suddenly be on edge. I even yelled at someone for blowing coffee steam in my face.”

“Is that what a person is supposed to feel like after having sex with someone?”

“Probably not. Except when I was with him, it wasn’t like that. When I was with him, I felt wanted. And it felt good. Most nights, he’d follow me back to my place or take me to his, expecting sex no matter how I felt, but I’d let him fuck me anyway because I liked how much he wanted me. And sometimes I’d get off, which was nice.”

“So what happened?”

“I started having panic attacks. Not because of him, but for no reason at all. I guess the stress of classes and asshole professors and stuff was getting to me. It was all just too much. So I quit. Dropped out. I told Max goodbye and I never saw him again until the day we found _Equinox_ in that nebula.”

“Have you been involved with him since then?”

“No. He’s tried to put on the moves once or twice, but I told him no and that’s the end of it. We’re just friends now.”

“He hasn’t tried pressuring you into sex again?”

She groaned. “You keep focusing on that, but I told you he’s a good person. Guys do stupid, selfish shit to get laid when they’re young. It’s just what they do. But he’s not like that anymore, okay?”

“So you believe he’s matured beyond that sort of behavior?”

“Yes, that’s what I said.”

“I hear you,” I said calmly as I leaned back in my chair, taking a moment to absorb her words and feel out what was beneath them. Part of me wanted to grab her shoulders and shake her until she understood that Burke’s behavior wasn’t okay, not then and not ever, but if she wasn’t in any present danger, then perhaps it wasn’t the time to tilt at that particular windmill. Besides, there was something else that I sensed she might be more willing to explore. “I’m noticing a theme here of you needing to feel wanted. Is this something you feel often?”

She paused to ponder the question. “Yeah, I guess so. Every relationship I’ve been in, that’s what I seek the most. Even with Tom. And I can’t stand it if that person seems to want someone or something else more than me. Like, I should be what they want most, right?”

“I can understand that.”

“So, yeah, I guess that is a theme for me.”

“Where do you think that comes from?”

She frowned. “I don’t know. Am I supposed to know?”

“Not necessarily,” I said. “I was just curious if you had a sense of when it became a theme for you. Has it only been a feature of your romantic and sexual relationships, or have you felt that way in other relationships, as well?”

Again, she stopped to think. “You know, now that you mention it, I do kinda want that in my other relationships. Like, I didn’t want to be chief engineer until Captain Janeway wanted me to be. I didn’t want to join the Maquis until Chakotay said he wanted me on his ship. Hell, even with my dad...”

Her eyes went wide. “Oh my god. That’s where it comes from. The older I got, the more I needed to know that he wanted to be around us, because I kept getting this feeling that he didn’t. I questioned him all the time about it, even when he took me on a camping trip with my uncle Carl and my cousins. The whole time I knew I wasn’t wanted, but I kept telling myself it was just my cousins who didn’t want me there and not my dad... not until...”

For the first time I’d ever witnessed, B’Elanna’s eyes filled with tears. I passed her a box of tissues that I kept on the small table beside my chair. “What happened, B’Elanna?”

“One of my cousins put worms in my food, and when I got upset he said something about how that’s what Klingons were supposed to eat. I got mad and went off on my own. When I came back, my dad said I overreacted, that it was just what kids did and I was too sensitive. After they sent us all to bed, I overheard dad talking to Uncle Carl. He said...” She hiccuped. “He said mom and I were too much, that he couldn’t handle living with two Klingons. And that’s when I knew I was right; he didn’t want us anymore.”

I nodded. “So first, your father didn’t listen to your perspective about how hurtful your cousin’s actions were. Then, he accused you of being ‘too sensitive.’ Then, he told your uncle that your sensitivity was a pattern that he tied to your Klingon heritage, and he used that trait to blame you and your mom for his unhappiness at home rather than acknowledging any part he had to play in those tensions.”

B’Elanna wiped at the tears streaming down her face and nodded. “He did.”

“That must have made you feel so rejected.”

She scoffed. “Yeah, it did. So I got it in my head that I should just leave. I tried to run away after Uncle Carl went to bed. It was so stupid. I mean, where was I going to go? But dad caught me. When he tried to stop me, I told him what I heard, and you know what he said to me?”

“What?”

“He said I shouldn’t have been listening to a private conversation. As if talking shit about mom and me two meters away from my goddamn tent is private! So I threw it right back at him. He shouldn’t have said those things. Then he said I was twisting his words. It made me so angry.”

“You had a right to be angry. What he said was incredibly hurtful, and he wasn’t willing to own up to his mistake.”

B’Elanna shook her head. “It’s not what he said, though. It’s what I said.” She sobbed, her whole body shaking with the force of her agony. “I said, ‘If you can't stand living with us, then why don't you just leave?’ And that’s exactly what he did, twelve days later. And he never came back.”

It took everything inside me not to react to her words. I wanted to cry, to hug her, to tell her that her father was a no-good selfish asshole who didn’t deserve any of her mental anguish or energy. But she didn’t need to carry the weight of my emotions on top of her own, and I was nothing if not good at my job; I noticed every emotion and thought in my head and told them all to take a number. I’d deal with them later.

“Do you blame yourself for your father leaving?” I asked.

“How could I not? I knew he didn’t want me and mom, and I still told him to leave. I could have worked harder, been a better daughter, but I pushed him away instead. And this is what I always do with everyone who gets too close. If I think they don’t want me anymore, I push them away until they leave. And then I wonder why nobody wants me.”

“That sounds like a reasonable defense mechanism considering your past experiences.”

“No, it’s fucking stupid, and I’m an idiot for still using it.” She sighed. “I never learn.”

“What haven’t you learned?”

“That nobody will ever love me if I keep pushing everyone away. I need to find a way to be okay with not always being wanted. Which is why I’m here.”

I paused for a moment, trying to think carefully about how to phrase what I said next. Clearly, there were a few cognitive distortions to unpack with her, but where was the best place to start? 

Baby steps.

“I’m wondering if maybe there’s a middle ground,” I said.

She frowned. “What do you mean?”

“It’s completely normal in relationships for us to want to feel like we’re wanted. True, we can sometimes let that desire drive us in directions we didn’t actually want to go, but that doesn’t necessarily mean our desire is bad—just that it needs to be monitored. We can’t help what we feel, but we can choose to talk back to the thoughts our feelings inspire, yes?”

“I guess so.”

“So maybe we try doing that. Whenever you start to feel insecure about how much others want you around, try talking back to those thoughts that say you should push people away.”

“And tell them what?”

“What do you think? If you feel unwanted and it makes you think about lashing out or pushing someone away, what can you say back to that thought that might help you to pause and take a different course of action?”

B’Elanna thought about it for several seconds before answering, “Maybe I’m misinterpreting the situation. Maybe it’s not that I’m unwanted, but something else I don’t know about. I mean, it’s not like people always know what they’re making other people feel, right?”

I smiled. “Exactly! And that’s a very good example.”

Her voice quieted, fragile like porcelain. “You think so?”

“I do. So, what do you think about this practice exercise? Do you think you can put it to use these next couple of weeks until our next session?”

B’Elanna nodded. “Yeah. I can do that.”

When the session was over and B’Elanna was gone, I pulled my knees up to my chest and cried.

* * *

After the orb experience with Captain Sisko, I did exactly what he told me to do— I responded to Ezri Dax’s letter, asked for information on the orbs and other related religious artifacts.

While I waited for Dax’s response, I devoured everything available in _Voyager’s_ database. Sisko gave no indication of what, specifically, I should be looking for, so I read it all. I even went so far as to ask Iliana, Celes, Gerron, and Tabor for anything they might know that the database didn’t cover.

Nothing stood out.

Thankfully, Chakotay offered to help me organize and study the information gathered— and to keep me sane through my research. He actually found the work interesting, and he was able to recall details that I simply couldn’t make myself care about. It was nice having a second set of eyes, especially through longer stints when my own eyes grew so weary they seemed to go cross.

Meanwhile, repairs chugged along. Word spread among our allies of _Equinox’s_ disappearance at the blue nebula battle, and everyone kept a sharp eye out for our companion ship. For the moment, she seemed to be keeping a low profile.

Throughout all of this, life went on aboard our little ship. Schmullis removed more than half of Lyndsay’s implants, and she looked almost like her old self again— though she changed her hair to red rather than her natural brown. Annika moved back into her old quarters and resumed her relationship with Megan. First, Third, and Fourth moved to Korok’s ship, while Mezoti and Second— who opted to reclaim the name Icheb— took bunk assignments on _Voyager_.

As for me, I kept busy. I worked with B’Elanna on processing her heartbreaking past, helped Marla build up tolerance for anxiety triggers, and started building rapport with Icheb. When I wasn’t counseling, I split my on-shift time between CSO duties, bridge watch, and helping with sensor repairs.

And Neelix, of course, planned a New Year’s Eve party.

* * *

Most of the mess hall’s tables had been moved out, and the ones left behind were spread out around the edges of the room. In the center of the room was a synthetic wood floor for dancing. The doors on both sides of the hall were left open, and tables full of food lined the corridors where many of the crew stood in clumps to talk.

Only a skeleton crew was left on duty—the most introverted members of our community who generally disliked large gatherings—led by Tuvok, who dutifully watched the bridge as he always did when we threw a party.

Musicians set up their chairs and stands in front of the massive viewport on the hall’s aft side, giving them a lovely backdrop of shining diamond stars. Harry sat among them warming up with his clarinet. He jumped at the chance to play with other like-minded musicians, and had even shared a couple of his original compositions for the ensemble to perform at the party.

Usually, I loved parties. Sure, I considered myself to be an introvert, but a very social one. On that particular day, however, I simply couldn’t find the spark of connection with anyone. Talking to people was exhausting, and I had the uncomfortable sense that I wasn’t actually present. It was like watching a holoprogram in which the characters had been set up to ignore my presence completely. Even when people tried to talk to me, it felt unreal. I may as well have been locked inside a glass box.

So instead of attempting a futile exercise in socializing, I stood off to the side of the ensemble to observe my fellow crew mates.

When the band changed up their style from classical to swing, Lyndsay dragged Celes onto the dance floor. Celes’s face went pink with embarrassment, but she laughed and gradually loosened up as Lyndsay guided her through the steps, their Bajoran engagement bracelets flashing in the overhead lights.

Near the bar that wrapped around Neelix’s galley, Annika and Megan bowed their heads together so they could converse despite the loud music. I could just imagine them lamenting the ensemble’s decision to switch to upbeat styles of music, discussing how much more superior were the classical compositions and how they preferred the refined dances of ballrooms to jazz halls. I couldn’t help but smile a little at the thought of what an interesting relationship those women must share.

And then there were the captain and Chakotay, milling about opposite sides of the hall to socialize with their crew but never once looking at each other.

I worried about their marriage more and more every day. Here and there, I’d catch glimpses of hope for the deep love I knew they shared— knowing glances they’d exchange while on duty, the casual way Chakotay would bring up their domestic patterns while he and I worked on our research. But the truth was that I simply couldn’t shake what I’d seen of them in the visions Alixia gave me. True, that timeline involved another nearly twenty years of trekking towards home only to learn partway that the Borg were poised to consume it all. They had clearly been tried by desperate times and difficult choices.

But still.

After a while, Schmullis finally released the other instrumentalists and began to play the piano by himself.

Harry made a beeline for me the moment his instrument was out of his hands. He pulled me close and whispered in my ear, “Dance with me.”

“Okay,” I said, not entirely sure I had the energy but happy to have my date back.

As Harry led me onto the dance floor, I noticed a few other couples split off from the sidelines to make their way to the center of the room— Captain Janeway and Chakotay, Annika and Megan, Kes and Neelix, Tom and B’Elanna. I stumbled a bit on my own feet to see the last pair standing side-by-side, holding hands and waiting for the next song to start. B’Elanna seemed intensely interested in the synthesized wood flooring, but Tom caught my eye and gave a knowing half-smile.

That was when I noticed guitar music blending in with the piano. I glanced towards the viewport to find Mike sitting in a chair next to the piano, a guitar in his hands but no PADD on a stand to read music from. Whatever he was playing, it was coming from memory.

So Schmullis had practiced more than one set for the night.

“Thank you again for all your kind applause,” Schmullis said as he continued to play, “and thanks to all of the talented musicians who made the last set possible. Now, we’re going to transition into something a little different and hopefully more romantic as the zero-hour moment approaches. The first song we’re going to perform is one you may or may not know from our last data stream from Earth. Actually, it has quite an interesting connection to one of our own—“

Harry’s head snapped towards Schmullis, his eyes narrowing at the doctor.

Schmullis’ eyes widened, and he gave a nervous laugh. “On second thought, it’s not important. The point is, if you haven’t listened to it yet, well, here’s your chance.”

At once, Schmullis and Mike transitioned into a familiar string of notes, and instantly I knew what it was. I looked to Harry, eyes wide and mouth falling open more than I’d have cared to admit.

He smiled, stroked my cheek, and took me in his arms for the dance as Schmullis began to sing lyrics my sister’s partners had written for her after our brother and his wife died in the war.

 _I know that it’s hard and_  
_I know that it’s tough_  
_I know that you feel like_  
_You’re just not enough_  
_You fought with a devil_  
_And forged scars of steel_  
_But something inside you_  
_Refuses to heal_

Harry’s lips moved along with the words, his voice so quiet only I could hear him singing along.

 _Yes, everything hurts now_  
_And nothing’s okay_  
_I know you just want to_  
_To get through today_  
_I know that it’s hard and_  
_I know that it’s tough_  
_But sweetheart to me you_  
_Are always enough_

Tears flooded my eyes. To me, the song had meant exactly what it meant to Deb— holding onto loved ones as we walked through the indescribable grief of losing Jay and Melissa. But there, as Harry and I gently moved to the soft chords and sweet melody on the dance floor, it took on an even more immediate meaning. Suddenly, all I could think about was how I’d lost Rojel and then retreated from my husband.

 _You’re always the sunshine_  
_On my darkest day_  
_Whenever I speak, you’re_   
_The words that I say_  
_You make my life better_  
_You make me want more_  
_You remind me, darling_  
_What living is for_

 _I’ll always be here, love_  
_Right next to your side_  
_If nothing else, at least_   
_We’ll know that we tried_  
_I’ll always be here, love_  
_Right here til I die_  
_Right here til I die, love_  
_Right here til I die_

The words dropped away, succumbing to a slow but intense musical interlude that Schmullis and Mike carried like pros. I was openly weeping, likely ruining the excitement and romance of the moment for everyone present, so I slipped my arms out of position and wrapped them around Harry’s neck.

Luckily, we weren’t alone on the dance floor.

Drawing him close enough to cut off any light in between us, I buried my face in his shirt. We swayed like teenagers at a school dance, feet slowly shuffling on the deck, never really traveling away from our spot. Against my ear, his lips began to move as the lyrics picked up again and he sang along in a hushed baritone voice.

 _I’ll always be here, love_  
_Right next to your side_  
_If nothing else, at least_   
_We’ll know that we tried_  
_I’ll always be here, love_  
_Right here til I die_  
_Right here til I die, love_  
_Right here til I die_

When the song ended, Harry murmured, “Do you want to leave?”

“No,” I whispered back, sniffling and rubbing my face against the soft, dark fabric. “No, just stay here. Don’t let me go.”

“Never, _ja’lat_. Not ever.”

By the end of the next song, I managed to regain my composure. Although we didn’t return to the dance floor for the rest of the night, I clung to his hand and he held tight to mine.

The entire performance had been orchestrated by Harry, right down to the people he asked to join us on the dance floor so as to avoid us being the center of attention. It woke up a part of me that I worried had been lost. I still felt a bit disconnected from the party, but Harry’s song stirred up a deep sense of love that used to overwhelm me in his presence— a sense that I’d shut down inside the gravity sinkwell when it was all I could do to simply survive.

I’d been slipping as a wife and a friend. In my grief and suffering, I’d become incredibly self-centered. It was understandable, considering what I’d been through, and it made no sense to hold it against myself. But my wounds no longer needed to be licked clean. They still burned, but they were healing, and the people I loved were ready to support me as I moved forward.

Zero-hour came and went with kisses and hugs and cheers. In ones and twos and threes the crew filtered off to their beds, while a few of us stayed behind to help clean up. When the food was recycled and the tables put back in their places, B’Elanna caught Tom’s hand and tugged him out the door. I glanced around, but it seemed no one else had noticed.

I smiled to myself.

It was very early in the morning when Harry and I returned to our quarters. He pulled me close and kissed me deeply, fanning the flame that had begun to glow in me during our dance. It was as if I’d been phase-shifted for months, unable to truly connect to anyone who hadn’t been to the other side with me, and somehow Harry found a way to bring me back into phase. In that moment I knew with absolute certainty that I was still very much in love with Harry. So I leaned into the kiss, needing him to know that he wasn’t alone in our marriage anymore.

Needing to reassure myself that I wasn’t alone, either.

So I slid his shirt off of his shoulders and laid my hand against his thudding heart. I pushed his pants from his hips, and he relieved me of mine. I pressed him into the mattress and joined our two bodies into one. It wasn’t the first time we’d made love since losing Rojel, but it was the first time I felt wholly connected to him and to the devotion we had for each other. 

Maybe Alixia’s visions had been a call to war, but perhaps they had also been a wake-up call to all of our weary, broken souls. Maybe the Emissary had manipulated us, even condemned us to a life and death far away from home.

But perhaps he had also saved us all.


End file.
